


Gon Kru Oso Noumou Gada (For Those We've Lost)

by 4Lorn



Series: Sut en Jus (Dust and Blood) [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Badass Clarke Griffin, Camp Jaha | Arkadia, Canon-Typical Violence, Commander Lexa (The 100), Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Nation - Freeform, Mount Weather, Polis, Post-Mount Weather, Slow Burn, Trigedasleng, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Lorn/pseuds/4Lorn
Summary: “There is the sound of a sword being sheathed and Clarke feels a presence at her side. She looks up into Lexa's eyes and sees no judgment, no expectation that she have all the answers. Instead there is a steadiness, an unflinching certainty that they must save their people.”orClarke pulls the lever. But it's not Bellamy who pulls it with her. It's Lexa.





	1. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it took to get this one out. I recently started working again, and between that and classes (especially finals) I've had my hand full. I'm also working on another long piece right now, so I've been bouncing between that one and this one. That being said, the rest of this one is still in the works, though it shouldn't take as long, so stay tuned!
> 
> Inspiration for this chapter was "Getting Into the Mountain" by Evan Frankfort: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoZyJ79jsfw

_Gon Kru Oso Noumou Gada_

(For Those We've Lost)

Part I

"Attack!"

" _Chil yo daun!_ "

The call comes from her left, and the army at her back grinds to a halt. Clarke looks over to see Lexa bounding down the hill, her guard – now half the size it was – flanking her. Her steps are sure but her expression is not, and though Clarke doubts anyone else can tell, she looks rattled. She's covered in blood, but Clarke has a feeling none of it belongs to her.

"Lexa?" Clarke can't help the somewhat fearful tone in her voice. This was not part of the plan. "What's going on?"

"Clarke." Lexa pulls up beside her, breathless. "We can't attack."

Clarke stares at her, baffled. "Why not?"

"I spoke to a Mountain Man on the ridge," Lexa manages. "They have-"

_**BOOM!** _

The sound of the explosion is earth-shattering, followed by a deep rumbling. The Mountain groans as if in pain and the world tips upside down. Lexa throws herself on Clarke and pulls her to the ground as a ball of fire erupts from the open corridor. The heat of it sears across Clarke's skin, singeing her clothes. There is a horrible screech as the massive door of Mount Weather ricochets off to their left and destruction rains down around them. A wave of force rolls over them, the effects of the blast. The rumble continues for a several long moments and then tapers off.

Clarke's ears are ringing as she lifts her head up from the ground. Rocks and scraps of metal rain down around them, pelting Clarke's back. The air is thick with dust, and Clarke's throat feels scratchy. She reaches up to find a gash on the bridge of her nose, nestled just beside her right eye. Checking on either side of her, Clarke sees Lexa and Lincoln. Lincoln's nose is gushing blood, and Lexa has blood dripping down her face from a deep cut above her left brow. Clarke squints, unsure if she's simply seeing things, or if that is just the brunette's war paint. She reaches out to wipe the blood from above the Commander's eye. Her hand comes back covered in black, and Clarke stares.

"Nightblood," Lexa rasps, as if that is an explanation. She slowly clambers to her feet, and then reaches down to help Clarke up. At their side, Lincoln wipes at his nose and stands. The three of them take in the chaos as the dust clears.

Behind them, their army is slowly regaining its footing. Though dazed, most of them are uninjured, save for a few scrapes and bruises. Those who had been closer to the door are not so lucky. There are shrapnel wounds, burn wounds, even a few missing limbs. Off to their left, there is a deep gouge in the earth from what must have been the metal door. The explosion blew it off its hinges, throwing it into one mass of warriors, and it is there where the worst of the injuries are. It is only thanks to Lexa that Clarke was not more seriously hurt.

There is shouting and yelling as Grounders and Arkers alike rush to the aid of their fallen comrades. While some tend to the injured, others help those beside them stand up, and the warriors on the fringes of the army ready themselves for any follow up attacks.

"Clarke," Lexa's voice sounds breathless in her ear. "The entrance."

Clarke tears her gaze from the blood seeping out from beneath the disconnected door and looks to where it once stood. The inside of Mount Weather's entrance corridor is gone, replaced instead by a pile of twisted metal and stone slabs. The section of the Mountain that was once above the door has collapsed inward, adding another layer to the heap of rubble that has buried their army's way in.

Monroe appears at Clarke's elbow, coughing. "What the hell just happened?"

A few feet in front of them, David Miller staggers to his feet. Her takes in the entrance, then turns around to stare at them with wide eyes. "They set off a bomb," he says, disbelieving. "They set off a bomb to collapse the entrance."

"I thought it was supposed to be blast-resistant." That was the whole reason they hadn't done that in the first place.

David shakes his head and rotates his shoulder, grimacing in pain. "The door, maybe, but if the bomb was inside the corridor, it's a different story."

Clarke curses. "And now we can't get in." She looks at Lexa. "You knew that explosion was coming. What happened?"

Lexa tears her eyes away from the collapsed tunnel. "They captured our people who were waiting inside the Mountain." She grits her teeth. "They threatened to kill my people and told me of the bomb at the door. They tried to make a deal with me."

"What?" Clarke's mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to catch up with this new sequence of events.

"They wanted to make a deal with me," Lexa repeats, her tone insisting Clarke get with the program. "I call my army off and let them close the door. In exchange, they would let my people go, free of harm."

Clarke feels a chill go down her spine. "And my people?"

Lexa shakes her head. " _Skaikru_ was not part of the deal."

Clarke stares at her with wide, terrified eyes. If Lexa had taken the deal… But then Clarke looks at the decimated entrance of Mount Weather. The rubble left behind, however distressing, proves that Lexa didn't take that deal, that Lexa and her army are still by her side, and there is a still a way to win this. Clarke shoves that nightmare aside for the moment and looks at the Commander. "So what now? The plan didn't account for this."

"Plans don't last very long in battle." Lexa's eyes find the collapsed tunnel before them. Then she looks at Clarke. Her eyes slide over to Lincoln, and then to David _ **.**_  Clarke can practically see the gears in her head turning. She looks back at the army behind them, baffled by the explosion but once again ready to fight.

Lexa's face hardens. She locks eyes with Clarke. "I have a plan." Without explaining, she turns to look into her army. " _Fiou!_ " The general pushes forward from the ranks and Lexa murmurs something to him in  _Trigedasleng_. The general hesitates for a moment, and then nods. He murmurs something in the horn blower's ear before returning to his men. Lexa looks at the horn blower next. "Sound the retreat."

" _What?_ " Clarke can't believe what she's hearing. "Lexa-"

The sound of retreat is loud beside them, echoing through the trees. But it is different from the call Clarke has heard before, with two short blasts just after it. As the army slowly begins to seep back into the forest, carrying with them the dead and the wounded, Lexa turns to Clarke. "The condition was that I call my army off in return for the hostages," she explains. "I wounded the messenger before he could tell his superiors my answer, but he managed to escape when his comrades pinned us down. If I call my army off now, it will buy us some time, but when the messenger reaches his superiors, those inside are bound to learn that I did not take the deal. Once they do, they will begin executing my people, and they will hasten the torture of yours. Calling the main army off will save us time, but it does not need to be the  _entire_  army. There are no guarantees there are not more bombs, so we will need to be careful, but the army itself will be ready when the time comes, they just need to stay out of sight."

"We can't attack through the front door now anyways," Clarke says slowly, the inkling of an idea forming in her mind.

"Yes. But that is not the only way in. Bellamy knows the plan…"

"…And he would figure out that something went wrong." Clarke knows where Lexa is going with this. "They wouldn't be expecting a small force to come in from the tunnels."

Lexa nods with a small, grim smile and wipes at the blood streaming down her face. Her eyes flicker to the pile of rubble. "And  _skaikru_  knows the most about bombs, but they were not part of the deal."

Clarke can't help the grin that splits her face. Their situation is desperate, but with this plan, they have a chance. "Lexa, you're brilliant!" She turns quickly to David, who is rubbing hard at the grime around his eyes. "You were head of security on the Ark. Do you know how to disarm a bomb?"

David hesitates, looking confused, but then slowly nods. "Yes, but I'm not as good as Raven. I'd need time…and help."

"You'll get it." Clarke focuses on Monroe next. "I need you to gather up the rest of our people. Don't let any of them leave with the Grounder army. We'll need as many guns as we can get in case of a fight, and as many hands on deck as possible. Keep everyone together, right here. Do  _not_ let anyone leave. We can't afford to let any more of our people get captured."

"You got it." Monroe disappears into the retreating army

Clarke returns her attention to David. "Lexa is calling off the army, but our people don't need to retreat. I'm going to have you and the rest of them work on clearing up that tunnel."

David's expression clears. "There might be more bombs."

"Yes," Clarke confirms. "Can you disarm them, if you need to?"

"I can't make any guarantees…" David swallows hard. "But for Nate… I'll do my best."

That's all Clarke can really ask for. She and Lexa turn to Lincoln at the same time, the question obvious but silent. His eyes dart between them. He has been listening to their conversation, and he knows what they want. "The reaper tunnels?"

"Yes," Lexa answers.

He considers them for a moment, then glances at the collapsed tunnel. His eyes meet Lexa's, and then Clarke's. Finally, he nods, and Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. "But we'll need to be careful," he tells them. "I can't promise I'll be able to control myself while I'm down there."

" _Mochof, Linkon_ ," Lexa says, clapping him on the shoulder. "We will look out for you. Just get us in there." Her eyes find something over Clarke's shoulder. "Are your men ready?"

Clarke turns to see Fio. At his back are about twenty Grounders, covered in blood and dust but armed to the teeth. This is their army now.

Fio spits a glob of dust on the ground and nods. " _Sha, heda_."

Lexa studies the twenty warriors before her. "You told the others?" Another nod. "Good. Then let's go." With that, she starts in the direction of the reaper tunnels. Clarke and Lincoln fall into step beside her, with Fio and the twenty Grounders at their heels.

"Others?" Clarke asks Lexa.

"After we enter the tunnels, we will have four more groups coming in behind us, one at a time," Lexa explains, eyes scanning the Mountain looming to their left, now missing a chunk of earth. "That will avoid drawing their attention, and we can send one man back to lead the rest through. There will be several more groups either guarding the entrances or clearing out the rest of the tunnels once those two are through. But much of the army needs to be left in the forest until the entrance is cleared, or the Mountain Men will know we have not truly fallen back."

Clarke nods. It's a good plan, considering their situation. She looks back at the clearing one final time. The last of the Grounder army is melting into the tree line, and about a half dozen Arkers stand in a loose half-circle before the entrance of Mount Weather, guns at the ready. The rest are in a cluster at the door, beginning their slow, cautious dig through the rubble that is all that remains of the entrance corridor.

"We need to hurry," Lexa reminds her.

Clarke tears her eyes away, and they dive into the forest.

* * *

The trek to the reaper tunnels is quick and silent, but every snap of a twig makes Clarke wince. Before, with an entire army marching at their backs and no time limit, they hadn't needed to worry about stealth or speed. Now, they cannot afford to be noticed, and they cannot afford to waste time.

Clarke has been in the reaper tunnels before, but the darkness and damp walls still unnerve her. Nevertheless, she pushes forward. Lincoln leads them, pausing to peek around sharp corners and stopping every now and then at some points where two tunnels intersect to determine which direction they need to go. Occasionally, a convulsion passes through his body and he nearly stumbles and falls twice. The third time this happens, Clarke squeezes in beside him and hooks his arm around her shoulders.

"You can do this," Clarke murmurs in his ear. "Octavia will be waiting for us when we get there. She can help keep you grounded. But for now, just stay with me."

"I'm sorry," Lincoln rasps. "I'm slowing us down. You need to get to your people."

"You are my people," Clarke reminds him. "So let's go get them back together."

Lincoln nods and they push forward. He has several more episodes, but Clarke continues to talk to him, and her body pressed into his side seems to help keep him grounded. After a few more minutes, a square of light appears up ahead of them, and Clarke can see several figures milling impatiently before the metal door.

"We're here," Lincoln breathes.

One of the figures up ahead lets out a shout and there is the sound of several swords being drawn.

"Don't attack!" Clarke calls. "It's us!"

The swords stay out, but Clarke hears Octavia's voice. "Clarke?"

Their group moves forward into the light and the others finally relax. Octavia hurries to Lincoln and Clarke ducks out from beneath his shoulder. Indra steps forward, taking in their ravaged appearance. "Commander, we heard an explosion, and the sound of a temporary retreat. What…?"

"The plan has changed," Lexa explains, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. "Our people are being held hostage in the harvest chamber, and our army can no longer attack through the main entrance. We are bringing several smaller groups through the tunnels to enter here. The second group should be entering the tunnels soon."

"What about our people?" Octavia demands.

"They're still in there," Clarke answers. "David and the rest of the Arkers are trying to dig through the rubble to get in. A bomb exploded and collapsed the entrance."

The eyebrows of one of the Arkers shoot up. "Is that what that was?"

Clarke nods and looks at Lexa. "We need to send someone to get the other groups through the tunnels."

"Yes." Lexa looks at Octavia. "You led the first group here?"

Octavia nods and holds up the map.

"Good. You will lead the rest of the groups through as well. Lincoln is in no shape to go through again."

Octavia opens her mouth to protest, but Lincoln puts a hand on her arm and shakes his head. Octavia chews on her lip for a moment and stares at Clarke and Lexa, her eyes bright behind her war paint.

"Fine," she says. "But you better keep my brother safe."

"We will," Clarke replies almost immediately. "There's no way I would let anything happen to him." At her side, Lexa stiffens the slightest bit.

Octavia seems to consider that for a moment. She glances at Indra. The older woman simply stares steadily back at her. Octavia looks back at Lexa and nods firmly. She and Lincoln share a quick embrace. Then she brushes past Clarke's shoulder and disappears into the darkness.

"We will need to get inside," Lexa continues as soon as she is gone. "Fio, you and five of your men will stay here to watch this entrance when we go in. As soon as the other two teams get here, let them through. Indra, you and I will lead the rest of this first group inside."

Both generals nod. " _Sha, heda_."

Lexa focuses on Clarke. "Can you lead us through the Mountain?"

Clarke hesitates. "Maybe," she admits. "I can probably get us where we need to go, but Bellamy-"

Just then, the door lets out a beep and squeals open. As if he heard his name, Bellamy steps through, only to be met with a dozen bristling swords and the business end of four guns. The instant they realize who it is, everyone drops their weapons.

Bellamy blinks at them for a moment, slightly caught off guard by the barrage of weapons pointed his way. He scans the group in front of him, absorbing the dust and blood on some of them, until his gaze lands on Clarke. His eyes fill with relief. "Clarke," he says, his voice rough. "What's going on? I went to the harvest chamber. The prisoners…"

"They're being held hostage," Clarke explains, moving towards him. "We had to call off most of the army. And the main entrance is blocked off now, there's no way to get them inside."

"Clarke!"

Jasper squeezes past Bellamy and throws his arms around her shoulders, quickly followed by Monty. Beyond them, Clarke can see Maya, dressed in a quarantine suit. At Clarke's side, Lexa reaches for her weapon.

"It's okay," Bellamy hurries to say. "She's with us."

Lexa hesitates for a moment, glare moving between him and Maya, but then she relaxes. "What happened?" she demands. "How did they take our people?"

Bellamy shakes his head. "I don't know. I unlocked the cages before looking for the 48. When we went back to the harvest chamber, almost all of them were still locked up and those who weren't were being held at gunpoint by soldiers. I knew we couldn't fight them off alone, but there were no signs that the army was attacking, so I came here."

"And the 48?" Bellamy shakes his head and Clarke's stomach sinks. She swallows hard and turns to Lexa. "We're flying blind. We need to figure out what's going on in there."

Lexa nods in agreement. "Yes, but we need to hurry. They don't need my people. They won't hesitate to kill them the moment they realize I didn't call the entire army off."

Bellamy's eyes narrow the slightest bit as he considers this new information. He peers over Clarke's shoulder at the group of Grounders and then looks at Lexa. "I can get them to the hostages," he says. "I knew I wouldn't be able to take on all the soldiers alone, but with some help, we can do it."

Lexa consider that for a moment, then turns to Indra. "Go with him. Find the hostages and protect them."

Indra nods. " _Sha, heda_. And you?"

Clarke jolts when Lexa looks to her for guidance. "We'll go to the control room. We need to figure out what's going on in there, and that's the best place to find out."

"I'll go with you," Monty volunteers. "I know how to work the controls."

"Take this." Bellamy hands Monty his key card. "Find Dante. He's in quarantine. He may be able to help."

Clarke nods her assent. She and Lexa lock eyes with each other before the Commander turns to the Grounders. "Take your men," she tells Fio. "Half of you with Indra, the other half with me."

Clarke takes in her own people, only five strong. The rest are at work on the mountain of rubble above their heads. Clarke points out two Arkers. "You and you, go with Bellamy."

"I need to get Maya down to Level 5," Jasper pipes up. "She's running out of oxygen. I can work on getting to Cage too. If I get to him, I can kill him."

She highly doubts that, but… "You," Clarke indicates another Arker. "Go with him. Lincoln, you too." She focuses on the last two Arkers. "One of you comes with me, the other one stays here."

Suddenly, there is the sound of gunshots above their heads, echoing down the corridor that Bellamy and the others had come from. The shots are periodic but steady, not the tell-tale sign of a fight. Clarke knows exactly what they mean. Lexa looks at her with wide, panicked eyes.

"The hostages," Clarke says, dread pooling in her stomach. She locks eyes with Bellamy. He simply nods and turns, disappearing into the Mountain.

Lexa whirls on Indra and snaps, "Follow him! Protect the hostages with your life."

 _"Sha, heda_." Indra goes after Bellamy, a dozen Grounders and two Arkers on her heels.

"Protect this door at all costs," Lexa tells Fio. "Until we clear up the main entrance, it's our only way in."

Fio opens his mouth to reply, but a low rumble cuts him off. The world shakes a little around them, throwing dust down from the ceiling of the tunnel. Down the corridor, they can hear creaks echoing throughout the Mountain, as if it has come alive. This goes on for what feels like an eternity but can only be a few seconds. Then, everything goes quiet. Too quiet.

The gunfire has stopped. For now.

They can't waste any more time. Clarke locks eyes with Monty. "Let's go."

* * *

Finding Dante is easy. Monty knows the whole of the Mountain relatively well, and Clarke at least knows the quarantine area, thanks to her short stint there after their initial capture. She and Monty jog down the corridors of Mount Weather side-by-side, the footfalls of Lexa and their ramshackle guard echoing off the walls behind them. When they reach the quarantine unit, the one Arker and ten Grounders station themselves at the end of the hall while Clarke, Lexa, and Monty begin searching the many sickeningly white rooms.

"He's in here!"

Clarke follows the sound of Monty's voice down the corridor and into one room that looks exactly the same as all of the others. Inside, Dante sits on the single mattress in the room. He stands when Clarke walks in.

"Clarke," he greets, almost pleasantly.

"Dante," Clarke replies evenly. She says nothing else, and silence fills the room.

"We need your help," Monty finally admits. "We need to get our people out."

But Clarke has gotten very good at reading people, and really, she doubted it from the beginning. "He won't help us."

"These are my people," Dante says, the beginning of some excuse of an explanation. "I will not watch them-"

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening. He takes an involuntary step backwards as Lexa settles into place at Clarke's left. Her eyes are burning beneath her war paint. If looks could kill, Dante would lie dead on the floor. "You're…"

"Dante, this is Lexa," Clarke tells him, feeling a cruel sense of satisfaction at the shock and fear on his face.

"Y- you…" Dante splutters. "You're the Commander."

"And you are the killer of my people," Lexa growls.

"You shouldn't…" Dante's voice is all but a whisper. "You shouldn't be here."

That gets Clarke's attention. "What do you mean?"

"You were supposed to take the deal." Dante seems to be recovering from his shock, though he still shifts nervously. "You were supposed to take your people and retreat with you army."

Realization dawns on Monty's face. "It was you. The deal was your idea."

Clarke's heart stutters. "The hostages."

Lexa's eyes narrow dangerously, her jaw working back and forth. Dante doesn't say anything, just looks at them with his jaw clenched and lifts his chin. The silence is answer enough.

Clarke grits her teeth. This is not the man she remembers. "And were the bombs at the entrance your idea too? Trap your people inside to keep ours out?"

"You were attacking my home!" Dante snaps.

"You were torturing my people!"

"And you have been killing mine for far longer." Lexa adds, voice low and venomous.

Dante looks at her and scoffs. "I am only doing what must be done. I didn't want this."

"You didn't  _want_ this?" Lexa snarls, advancing on him. "You think  _my_ people wanted any of this? You've bled thousands of us dry for one hundred years. You've turned us into monsters and treated the rest of us as animals. You have ripped  _nomon_  and  _nontu_  from their  _yongon_  and mercilessly slaughtered those who defied you. You claim us to be the savages while you hide behind your metal walls and steal more from us than we could ever hope to gain back." Dante is backed up against the wall now. Lexa wraps her hands around his throat. "I have watched my people suffer enough beneath your influence. I have watched orphans rifle through the remains of their entire village, calling for their families, who were taken by you. I have watched a man tear the flesh from his own brother and consume it before his eyes because he was made to do so by you. I have seen my greatest generals collapse beneath the sorrow of losing their only son to you, and I have held my Nightblood children until dawn as they weep in fear of you." Lexa's voice cracks, bordering on grief. "I have seen my people suffer. I have seen them scream and cry in your shadow, and I have  _felt it_. I have seen what you have wanted, have felt the pain of thousands, and I will stand idly by no more. I will stop this madness, and if I alone must crush this mountain, then so be it."

"Lexa!" Dante's face is turning blue. "Lexa, stop!"

Lexa twists around to look back at her, eyes dark and filled with fury, and for a moment, Clarke hardly recognizes her. The girl – Lexa – is gone, replaced only by the Commander, the woman whose people have suffered unimaginable pain at the hands of the Mountain Men. "Give me one reason why I should not kill him here and now, Clarke, after all he has done."

"We need him." When Lexa doesn't move, Clarke very slowly reaches out and places a hand on her arm. "We need him, Lexa. We can use him. He may not want to, but he can help us save our people."

The Commander stares down at Clarke's hand on her bicep. She lifts her gaze back up to meet Clarke's eyes, blinks, and Lexa the girl is back. She releases Dante and steps away from him. The man slides to the floor, gasping for air. Lexa looks down at him with something akin to disgust. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees Monty watching the exchange with wide eyes.

The gunfire from above suddenly erupts again, devolving into uneven bursts. The three of them exchange a look. Bellamy's team has reached the hostages. Breaking eye contact, Lexa reaches down and hauls Dante to his feet. He tries to flinch away from her, but the Commander's grip is too strong.

"Monty." The boy startles slightly, his eyes refocusing on Clarke. "We need to get to the control room."

Monty nods shakily. "Follow me."

* * *

Fortunately, the control room is not too far from the quarantine unit. Once they arrive, Lexa leaves the rest of the group outside of the door with the command to let no one else inside. Then she drags Dante into the room with her.

Monty immediately gets to work at the controls. He fingers fly across the keyboard, and within seconds, the system begins booting up. One by one, the monitors covering the walls come to life, painting a picture of the situation inside Mount Weather.

Clarke feels herself go cold. "Oh my god."

The first scene to catch her attention is the dorm. Dozens of her people are chained to the walls, surrounded by guards, unable to escape. People in lab coats mill about around a table in the center. She only has a moment to process the fact that one of the guards is carrying away a dead body before another one of her people is strapped down. To her utter horror, Clarke recognizes Raven.

The next monitor to grab Clarke's attention is the one connected to the harvest chamber. Hundreds of Grounders are locked away in cages, just as they were when Clarke first discovered them. But now, many of them are holding hands through the bars of their cages, many of them have their eyes closed. They are monitored by two dozen Mountain Men with guns at the ready. Those soldiers closest to the entrance of the chamber stand behind the cover of the cages stacked against the wall. They are exchanging fire with Bellamy's group, who are pinned behind the opposite end of the stack. As Clarke watches, the two Mountain Men furthest from the firefight make their way down the rows of cages, popping a single bullet into each one.

"They are killing them." Lexa's voice is low and horrified. "They have no defense and they are  _killing_  them."

The monitor above that one flickers to life next. It shows the outside of the entrance, where David and the other Arkers are working away at the rubble lodged in the corridor. It seems to have grown larger, and off on the edges of the clearing, there are Grounders tending to several wounded Arkers. Clarke remembers the rumbles from before. Another bomb must have gone off.

"Clarke." Lexa's voice is shaking the slightest bit. "The tunnels."

That's when Clarke looks at the entrance to the reaper tunnels, and the last shred of hope she had disappears. Fio and his men are sprawled out in the tunnel, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. The second group that was supposed to follow behind them is at the entrance. Many of them are crouched among the blood and bullet casings surrounding Fio's decimated group. Octavia pounds fruitlessly at the closed door, which remains resolute and indestructible.

"Somebody attacked them and closed that door," Clarke murmurs, almost to herself. She scans the other monitors frantically, searching for the missing piece that killed Fio and his men. "But where-"

Just then, the sound of gunfire explodes through the corridor outside, accompanied by the sound of yelling. Clarke moves towards the door and Lexa reaches out for her. "Clarke, wait-"

Clarke throws the door open, only to have a bullet ricochet off the door frame beside her head. She feels a searing pain in her left hand and knows she's been hit. She jerks away from the opening. Before she can close the door, Lexa wedges her way into the threshold. She reaches out and grabs the collars of two of her men, one in each hand, and bodily hauls them backwards into the control room. Clarke puts her shoulder into the door and slams it shut again just as the last of the warriors outside fall to the hail of gunfire.

"On the door!" Lexa barks at the two Grounders, who Clarke recognizes as Ryder and Penn. They comply, pulling Clarke away and throwing their bodies against the door. Lexa squeezes herself in between them, ready to fight for control.

Clarke whirls on Monty. "Can you shut off access to this room?"

"Easy." Monty furiously begins tapping keys.

As he types, there is a beep from the door. Lexa, Ryder, and Penn dig their heels in and grit their teeth. Clarke sees the door push in slightly before they slam it closed again. Realizing that his people are trying to get in, Dante starts scrabbling at Lexa's clothes to pull her away. Clarke lunges at him, grabbing the back of his shirt. She may not be as strong as a Grounder, but she is stronger than him. She yanks him away and all but tosses him across the room.

The door beeps again and begins to open inward.

"I got it!" Monty yelps.

Clarke throws herself into the fray so she's more pushing Lexa than anything else. But the force behind her body is just enough to push the door closed again. The four of them wait with baited breath for the door to beep again, but it doesn't.

"I deactivated it," Monty says. "They can't get in."

The four of them relax and step away from the door. Clarke glances up at the monitor showing the outside of the control room and bites her lip. The bodies of her team lay in a heap in the corridor. The Mountain Men who killed them are debating furiously among themselves by the door. To Clarke's relief, they are wearing suits. A few screens over, Bellamy's team is still pinned down, though they've managed to slow down the rate of executions. For now.

Lexa notices the fresh blood on her clothes from where Clarke pushed into her and looks up with wide eyes. "You are injured."

"My hand," Clarke says simply. "I'll be fine." She rips a strip of cloth from her shirt and wraps it tightly around the palm of her left hand, gritting her teeth against the pain. "How did they know we were here?"

Clarke's gaze drifts across the monitors until they land on one in particular. It depicts the mess hall. Hundreds of people mill about, laughing and talking, a complete contrast to the chaos and bloodshed on every other level. Among them is Cage, and a few feet away, with his arm in a sling is…

"The messenger," Lexa hisses.

Clarke spots a handheld radio on the console beside her and snatches it up. She presses the transmit button and brings it up to her lips. "Carl Emerson. Mount Weather security detail. Come in."

Emerson's voice crackles back through the radio. "Who is this?"

"You know who this is," Clarke growls back. "Give the radio to the president."

Emerson looks directly at the camera above his head. After a moment, he complies, heading towards Cage. He ducks down to murmur something into the other man's ear. Cage takes the radio, and the two of them move into the hallway outside of the mess hall. Monty pulls up the feed from another camera so they have a clear view of the two men.

"This is President Wallace." Cage's voice is wary.

The next words come out of her mouth before Clarke has time to think about them. "I have your father. If you don't let our people go, I'll kill him."

The eyes of everyone else in the room widen, but Cage's voice is doubtful. "How do I know you have him?"

Clarke holds the radio out to Dante. He speaks into it, "Stay the course, Cage."

"You won't do it." Cage himself doesn't sound so sure.

"You don't know me very well," Clarke responds. She receives no reply, so she continues, "This ends now. Release our people."

His next words catch Clarke off guard. " _Our_  people?"

That wasn't what Clarke was expecting. He must already know by now that Lexa refused the deal. The bomb was triggered and the executions have begun, not to mention the group of Mountain Men standing just outside the door. Still, she holds the radio out towards Lexa and motions for her to talk into it.

" _Heya Keij kom Maunon_." Lexa's voice is as cold and hard as it was when Clarke first met her. "This is the Commander. I suggest you do as Clarke asks."

There is silence on the other end. Then, "You were supposed to take the deal."

"But I did not," Lexa answers evenly.

"And now your people are dying because of you."

Lexa's eyes shine with barely suppressed rage. She takes a moment to gather herself. Then she growls, "If you are not careful, so will yours. I have no qualms about laying waste to this mountain."

Cage's laugh is bitter and somewhat strangled. "With you and what army?" He lowers his voice. "You may be inside Mount Weather but you are alone. The main entrance is sealed off and the tunnel entrance is closed. You have no way of getting your army in here and your people are being executed as we speak. You can't win this."

"This is not about winning," Lexa bites back. "It is about losing as few lives as possible. If you were a true leader, you'd know that. Let our people go."

They all know the answer before it's even comes. "I can't do that."

Clarke locks eyes with Lexa. Behind her, Dante says, "It would mean the end of our people."

Tearing her eye from the Commander, Clarke cocks her pistol, turns, and points it at Dante. He takes an involuntary step backwards.

Lexa moves to stand at Clarke's side. "Are you sure you want to do this, Clarke?" she murmurs into her ear. There is no judgement in her voice, only a question. "You said we need him."

"And I need his son to believe me," Clarke answers, and the look of sheer understanding in Lexa's eyes almost makes her drop the gun. Then, to Cage, "Don't make me do this."

Cage doesn't answer for a long moment. Clarke watches as, on the screen before them, he glances back at the mess hall, where all his people are gathering for their meal. Lexa exchanges a grim look with Clarke. They both know the words are coming before Cage says them.

"Dad." Cage's voice is husky. "I'll take care of our people."

That registers with Dante. His wide eyes skim over Lexa to Clarke, deciding that, despite the gun, his best chance lies with her. "None of us has a choice here, Clarke," he says.

Clarke bites her lip. "I didn't want this."

"Neither did I."

_Bang!_

He's hardly finished the sentence when Clarke squeezes the trigger. The bullet finds the old man's heart, sure and true. Red blood blooms across the front of Dante's shirt. He slumps against the nearest console, gasping for air. Clarke forces herself to watch - her vision blurred with tears - as his eyes drain of life and he collapses to the floor. She releases the transmission button on the radio, tearing her eyes away from Dante's body to take in the reactions of those in the room with her. Monty stares at her as if she is unrecognizable and neither Ryder nor Penn will meet her eyes. Lexa stares back at her, eyes steady and strong, a rock in the middle of the storm. The Commander looks up at the monitors, at their people being tortured and killed, at the closed exits and the bullet casings surrounding Bellamy's group. She locks eyes with Clarke again and simply nods.

Clarke swallows hard and speaks into the radio once more. "Listen to me very carefully. We will not stop until our people are free." She never looks away from Lexa, and the other girl never looks away from her. "If you don't let them go, I  _will_  irradiate Level 5." When there is no answer, Clarke continues, "Cage, listen to me. I don't want anyone else to die. Stop the drilling and the executions, and we can talk. There must be a way to get us all out of this."

Cage still doesn't answer. Instead, they watch as he shoves the radio into Emerson's chest. The two men exchange a few words, and Emerson starts striding down the hall. Clarke knows exactly where he is going.

"He's coming for us."

"Don't worry," Monty tells her. "I deactivated the door for all key cards. He won't be able to get in either."

Clarke's shoulders relax the slightest bit, but then Lexa says, "Where is he going?"

Her focus returns to Cage. He weaves through the mess hall, and Clarke realizes he's heading back to the dorm. She looks at Monty. "Can you do it? Can you irradiate Level 5?"

"I can do it." Monty's reply is sure, but his voice is quiet and shaky.

"Clarke." Lexa takes a step closer to her and lowers her voice. "Are you sure you want to do this? You told me there were children, people who have helped yours."

"I know, but I don't have any better ideas." She knows her expression is pleading when she asks, "Do you?"

Lexa hesitates, looking up at the monitors on the wall. As they watch, two Mountain Men fall to the floor in the harvest chamber, one with a bullet in his head and another with a dagger lodged in his throat. But then the two still shooting into the cages pop off several quick shots. Clouds of red mist burst from each cage they shoot into, and the barrage pauses. Lexa rips her eyes away to look back at Clarke and simply shakes her head.

But Clarke's attention is already somewhere else. In the dorm, Cage barks several commands to the men in lab coats. After a moment's hesitation, they unstrap Raven and pull her off the table, only to lock her back in chains. Cage points to another individual chained the wall out of the frame. The lab coats pull her off the wall and strap her down. Clarke watches with mounting horror as they begin to drill into her mother's leg.

"What have I done?" Clarke whispers.

"Clarke." Lexa's voice is urgent. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it now, but there will be no going back when we do." She moves into Clarke's line of sight and squeezes her shoulder gently. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I don't want to do this," Clarke chokes out. "But…"

Lexa nods her understanding. She turns to Monty. "Do it." The boy looks to Clarke for confirmation, and she nods back at him. With that, he begins typing away once again.

They watch the monitors as he works. Clarke's stomach sinks when she sees Maya, Lincoln, and the Arker racing down one of the corridors of Level 5. Jasper is nowhere to be seen. As they run, two Mount Weather soldiers tear down the corridor from the opposite direction and spot them. As if on cue, both parties raise their weapons. Three shots ring out at once and Lincoln's sword flies through the air. Both Mountain Men and the Arker go down. Lincoln reels back, gripping his shoulder. Clarke has the bizarre thought that at least it's the same shoulder  _she_ shot him in. After a moment, Lincoln and Maya dart off in the direction of the mess hall, more soldiers right on their heels.

"Clarke." She follows Lexa's eyes up to the monitor displaying the outside of the control room. Emerson has arrived, a backpack in tow. He speaks to the other soldiers and they seem to give him their assent. Two stay behind while the rest hurry away towards the harvest chamber.

"They're headed for Bellamy's group," Lexa hisses.

"Jasper," Monty's voice is filled with dread. "They caught him."

In the dorm, Jasper is being led to one wall to be chained up like the rest of the Arkers. Lincoln and Maya have found themselves in the mess hall. They don't get very far before they're surrounded by soldiers. There is a lull in the firefight in the harvest chamber. The soldiers that Emerson sent off to flank Bellamy's group stop just around the corner from them. One by one, they tear off their suits to lighten their loads, and Clarke knows they are preparing for an ambush, and the group of Arkers and Grounder have no clue that bullets are about to rain down on their backs.

Monty's fingers cease their movements, and Clarke looks down at him. "Why are you stopping?"

"Because I did it," Monty tells her. "All we have to do is pull this lever. The hatches and vents will open and the scrubbers will reverse, pulling in outside air."

Clarke stares at the lever he indicated. She knows what she has to do, knows there is no other options. But she can't bear to do it. She knows what will happen if she does.

"What is he doing?" Lexa's voice cuts through her thoughts. Up on the monitor, Emerson crouches beside the door and unzips his backpack. He pulls out an odd piece of machinery. Clarke doesn't recognize it, but she knows what it's for. "Emerson's going to blow the door." She cocks her pistol. "They're coming in."

Lexa draws her sword. Ryder and Penn follow suit. "Let them come."

"Clarke!" It's Monty. His voice is scared and desperate. "We're out of time."

Clarke holsters her gun and puts her good hand on the lever. She looks up at the monitors one more time. Octavia is still banging at the door, but there's no way in. Lincoln and Maya are on the floor now, they hands being pulled behind their backs. The soldiers flanking Bellamy's group strip off the last of their suits and heft their guns. One of them waves a signal, and they step around the corner, ready to shoot. In the dorm, Clarke's mother lays immobile on the table as she is drained of her bone marrow. In the harvest chamber, one of the Mountain Men puts a bullet into another prisoner's skull.

Clarke holds back a sob. "I have to save them." She isn't entirely sure who she's talking to, but all she can see is death and destruction and she knows that she is the only one who can stop it.

There is the sound of a sword being sheathed and Clarke feels a presence at her side. She looks up into Lexa's eyes and sees no judgment, no expectation that she have all the answers. Instead there is a steadiness, an unflinching certainty that they must save their people. She nudges Clarke's hand gently aside until they are grasping each side of the handle, one beside the other. It's deliberate, a simple act that says,  _'We will take this burden equally. Together.'_

"For those we've lost," Lexa says, eyes steady on her face.

"And for those we'll soon find," Clarke chokes out.

And then she and Lexa pull the lever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chil yo duan!" - Stand down!
> 
> "Mochof, Linkon." - Thank you, Lincoln.
> 
> "Sha, heda." - Yes, Commander
> 
> "Nomon, nontu, yongon" - Mother, father, child
> 
> "Heya Keij kom Maunon." - Hello, Cage of the Mountain Men.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa face the consequences of their actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little guy has adopted a mind of his own, so I'm gonna let him run his course and see what happens. This will be just as much of an adventure for me as for you.
> 
> My inspiration for this chapter was "The Death of Mount Weather and Cage" by Evan Frankfort: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYUF7HLUTDo

_Gon Kru Oso Noumou Gada_

(For Those We've Lost)

Part II

It doesn't happen quickly. There are no explosions, no waves of fire. Instead, all that happens is several beeps from the computer. Monty bolts back to the monitor and presses a few keys. She and Lexa wait with baited breath, not sure what to expect, not sure what they want to happen.

Then the alarm begins to blare. It is a high-pitched grating noise meant to get one's attention. The lights begin to flash bright yellow. The flashing light makes its way out of the control room and across the many monitors. Then, one by one, the Mountain Men begin to drop like flies. Red blisters erupt across their skin. They cough as the tainted air seeps into their lungs and chokes them. Clarke knows they are being boiled alive from the inside out. The shooting peters out as those in the harvest chamber drop their guns and collapse to the ground. Throughout the mess hall, they fall like stalks cut by a scythe. In the dorm, Cage falters as those around him begin to die, and he looks directly at the camera. He flees the room, followed only a few moments later by Jasper. At the door of the control room, Emerson stumbles to his feet and dashes down the corridor. The other two soldiers in suits dazedly watch him go, then at look each other before hurrying after him.

Lexa glances at the door, now unguarded, before looking at Penn and Ryder. "Go open the door to the tunnels," she tells Penn. "Tell Octavia to lead more groups through so we can begin evacuating the prisoners. Let the army generals know that the fight is over, and they need to prepare to treat the wounded." Then, to Ryder, "Find Bellamy and Indra's team and begin freeing the prisoners."

She puts her hand on Clarke's shoulder. "Come," she says softly. "Let's go get our people."

* * *

Later, Clarke will not remember much of the walk to Level 5. None of them speak, but it is far from quiet. Their footsteps echo through the empty corridors and the alarm clamors endlessly. It will continue to do so until long after they have left the Mountain.

When they reach the mess hall, they all stop in their tracks. Mere minutes before, the room was full of hundreds of living, breathing human beings. Now, all that is left are corpses slumped over meals and spread across the floor, a room utterly still. Their skin is blistered and burnt. There is no blood, but Clarke almost wishes there was. Maybe she would feel different, instead of this numbness in her chest, the sinking realization that she has done something beyond monstrous, and she cannot take it back.

There is a sharp intake of breath beside her.

Lexa's expression is heart-breaking. Her eyes scan the room, taking it all in, the full scale of their actions, as if committed to memorizing the faces of every man, woman, and child. Her lips are trembling, and for a moment, Clarke could swear her eyes are shining with tears. But then she blinks and presses her lips together. She straightens her shoulders and looks at Clarke. Their eyes meet. In that moment, a single, unspoken truth passes between them.

_We did this._

But Lexa doesn't say that. Instead, she says, "Your people are just beyond this room. We will ensure their safety, and then we will do the same for mine."

Clarke nods wordlessly. Lexa moves to step past her, but Clarke stops her with a hand on her arm. They both have to face the horror of what they have done, but she cannot bear to make Lexa lead them through this.

So Clarke goes first. She makes her way down the steps and through the mess hall, down one side of one of the long tables. There are so many bodies that there is hardly anywhere to put her feet. It is a long, arduous process, picking her way across the room, and their slow progress halts the moment Clarke turns the corner to see Jasper.

He is on his knees on the floor, cradling Maya's scalded body against his chest. He looks up at Clarke, and his eyes are so full of anguish that it hits her like a physical blow to her chest. "What did you do?"

Clarke can't tell him what she did. She cannot tell him that she pulled a lever, knowing that it would result in the painful, agonizing death of over three hundred people, including the girl he loved. All she can manage is, "We had no choice."

"I was gonna kill Cage," he sobs. Clarke notices the knife at his side and remembers what he had said down in the tunnels. "If you'd just given me one more minute, it would've been over!"

Clarke can't answer, both because of the grief in his voice and because the knife has thrown her back to Finn, and how this war of impossible choices has ended in an impossible choice. She tries to open her mouth, but no words come out. There is simply no reasoning she can give that will explain or excuse this.

Clarke feels a gentle hand on her shoulder. "There is nothing we can do for him," Lexa murmurs into her ear. "Let him grieve. We need to get our people."

Jasper pays no attention to them. He has collapsed in on himself once more, and Clarke knows that Lexa is right. She nods and steps past him, only to be greeted with more bodies. They cover the floor in a layer and it takes everything in her to keep moving towards the dorm.

When they get there, some of Clarke's people are already free. Lincoln is making his way around the room with a key in hand, unlocking the cuffs chaining her people to the walls. The moment they step through the door, Lexa reaches down to take the keys off of the belt of a soldier's corpse. She joins Lincoln in unlocking the shackles. Clarke moves to join them, but then her eyes catch on Kane, who is releasing the last of the restraints on the table.

"Mom," Clarke breathes. Without thinking, she rushes forward and into her mother's waiting arms. They embrace, and Clarke can't help it anymore. She bursts into tears. She clings to the older woman like a lifeline, afraid that if she lets go for even a moment, the ocean of blood she has just created will wash her away. "I tried," she sobs, drawing back a little. "I tried to be the good guy."

Abby wipes away her tears with gentle hands and smiles sadly, brokenly. "Maybe there are no good guys."

Clarke's voice gets swallowed up by tears, so she simply nods. Her mother's arms wrap around her again, and Clarke buries her face into her shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. For just a moment, she can will it all away. The grief, the pain, the horror. She can be a teenager crying her heartbreak away in her mother's arm, and pretend that her heart is broken by a boy instead of the slaughter of hundreds.

But then it all comes crashing back.

"Stay with the Sky People and help get them out," she hears Lexa tell Lincoln. "You will be in charge of getting the prisoners and our warriors in and out through the tunnels."

Clarke opens her eyes to see the two Grounders unlocking the last of the restraints. Once they are finished, Lexa slowly edges around the table and lays a gentle hand on Clarke's shoulder, as if afraid to intrude. "I need to go," she says softly, not as a demand of any sort, but simply a statement. "My people need to be freed as well."

Clarke pulls away from her mother and nods, wiping away her tears. She looks around the room, at her people embracing, smiling in relief, free,  _safe_. Her eyes go back to Lexa. "I'll take you to the harvest chamber."

"Clarke-" Abby stops the moment Clarke turns towards her. She must see the look in her eyes, the expression she is wearing. She follows Clarke's gaze to one of the soldiers' lifeless bodies, and then to the one beside him, and the one beside that one. Her eyes slowly travel back up to meet Clarke's, and the gravity of what she has done finally begins to sink in. She is still her daughter, but her daughter just murdered over three hundred defenseless people.

So she says nothing. What is there to say?

Clarke turns to Kane. "Take care of them while I'm gone. Get them out of here."

Kane nods, but Lexa speaks up, "You do not have to lead me there, Clarke." Her tone is careful, and her next words lead the choice entirely up to Clarke. "I will be able to find my way. If you need to stay with your people-"

"I know," Clarke says before she can continue. "Lincoln will be able to get them through, and I can send Bellamy to help once we get to the harvest chamber. But your people need help too, and the faster I get you to them, the better."

It's a poor excuse and they both know it. But Lexa doesn't point that out. She simply nods and motions for Clarke to lead the way. Clarke takes stock of the dorm room one last time, confirming with herself that there is nothing left here that can hurt her people, that they are finally, truly safe from the Mountain. Her eyes catch on the bloody table that Kane is helping Abby off of, and then her gaze strays down to one of the dead soldiers.

Clarke swallows hard, turns, and exits the dorm room without a word.

She picks her way back through the mess hall, Lexa silently following her. Neither of them speaks as they are once again greeted with hundreds of corpses. They pass by Jasper again, but he pays them no attention, still curled around Maya's lifeless body. It feels incredibly wrong and cold simply stepping by him, but Lexa is right. There is nothing they can do for him, and nothing he would want them to do anyways.

Still, Clarke isn't entirely sure what Jasper may do in this moment, surrounded as he is by death and destruction. So even though she says nothing, she bends down to pick up the knife lying on the floor beside him on her way by. He ignores her. Clarke tucks the knife into her waistband and continues on through the mess hall.

Just as they are leaving the mess hall, Clarke is forced to step over a blonde boy who can be no more than eight years old. He must have been pretty when he was alive, but his skin has become marred with the same blisters that seem to coat the floor around them. There are tracks of dried blood on his cheeks. He had been crying when he died.

Clarke is so far gone at this point that it takes her a full ten seconds to process what she'd just seen. Even as she does, it's as if she's realizing it from far away, as if someone else is in control of her body. But the images of the mess hall have all begun to flood in and blur together, and without the urgency of protecting her people, horror begins to swell in her chest. Suddenly, Clarke cannot move forward. She stops in her tracks in the middle of the corridor.

"Clarke?" Lexa asks, alarmed. She comes around from behind Clarke and steps into her line of sight. "What's wrong?"

"That boy," Clarke all but whispers, and the moment she says it, understanding floods Lexa's face. She knows exactly which boy she is talking about. She says nothing, simply watches her, but Clarke cannot stand how her expression holds no accusation. Not when there are hundreds of bodies just down the corridor. To keep from seeing it, Clarke looks down at her hands, her palms turned upwards. One is wrapped in a strip of fabric, the other as clean as can be. Yet, all Clarke can see is blood, thick as it drips off her fingertips.

"Clarke." Lexa's voice is quiet. She holds her hands just beneath Clarke's so that the heel of her palm is brushing Clarke's knuckles, her fingers feather-light on the back of her wrist. It's not quite enough contact to make her flinch back in fear of inflicting harm on her, but it's enough to bring Clarke back. She looks up from her blood-soaked hands, and Lexa's expression says it all. Clarke does not need to explain. The brunette knows exactly what is going through her mind.

Despite all of the horror and death permeating these halls, despite the numb, sick feeling in Clarke's chest, an emotion somewhere between affection and gratitude rushes through her. Clarke is not the only one who pulled that lever. Yet, Lexa is here, doing her best to give Clarke some semblance of humanity despite the fact that she is undoubtedly struggling with her own.

Clarke reaches out with her good hand and gently wipes away some of the black blood still oozing from the wound above Lexa's left eye. She brushes her knuckles down her cheek and the other girl closes her eyes. In that moment, there is such grief and weariness in her expression that it breaks Clarke's heart. She lowers her hand and Lexa opens her eyes. They are filled with a soft vulnerability that Clarke has seen only once before, when tentative words of ' _not you_ ' were spoken into the quiet space between them.

Lexa stares down at their hands, still hovering with their palms upwards, barely touching each other. She cups the backs of Clarke's hands in her own, initiating more contact now that she is confident Clarke will not flee. She surveys them, taking in the damage to her left hand before glancing back up to meet Clarke's eyes.

Clarke simply blinks at her. Neither of them speaks. There are no words for what they have done, for what they have been forced to give up for their people. There are no words to describe what they are feeling. But there is no need for them, because as always seems to be the case, they understand each other unequivocally.

Perhaps it is this which causes Lexa to look back down. She lifts Clarke's injured hand and presses a feather-light kiss to her palm, with just enough pressure for her to feel it, but not enough to cause any pain. Then she gently turns her hand over and does the same with each of her knuckles. Once she is finished, she releases Clarke's left hand and laces her fingers through her right. She lowers their intertwined hands and steps closer so that their shoulders are touching, making it clear she does not intend to let go.

"Together," Lexa murmurs.

Clarke stares, trying to blink away the tears that have sprung to her eyes. After a long moment, she takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and says, "Now let's go get  _your_ people."

Hand-in-hand, they walk through the dead corridors of Mount Weather.

* * *

There is no horror to match that which they found in the mess hall, but the massacre inside the harvest chamber comes very close.

The moment that Clarke and Lexa cross the threshold, they find themselves standing in a pool of blood. To either side of them, several Grounder warriors and the two Arkers that were part of Bellamy's team lay dead on the floor behind the cage stacks, riddled with bullets. In the aisle between the cages, about a half dozen prisoners sit on the floor, leaning back against the stacks. A few of them are groaning in pain, and all of them are clutching at bullet wounds. Scattered among them are the corpses of more prisoners, and from the blood oozing out of some of the cages, Clarke knows they aren't the only ones. On the opposite side of the stack are the Mountain Men, some dead from the firefight, most from the radiation.

Clarke knows at least part of what to expect when they enter, though last time she was here, it was not the blood bath it is now. Still, she gets her bearings first. She moves to the fallen Grounders and Arkers of Bellamy's team and checks each of their pulses to confirm that they are dead. As she moves to do the same with the prisoners, Lexa jumps into action beside her. She strides to the closest wounded Grounder and kneels before her.

The moment the woman sees her, her eyes widen. " _Heda_ ," she murmurs, as if she cannot believe her eyes.

"Where are you hurt?" Lexa asks, her voice somewhere between gentle and resolute.

The Grounder motions down to where a bullet is lodged in her right hip. She shifts slightly and grimaces in pain. "It is keeping me from walking, but it is not fatal,  _heda_."

Lexa nods. "Aid is coming.  _Yu gonplei nou ste odon_."

An almost proud smile finds its way onto the Grounder's lips. " _Ai gonplei nou ste odon_ ," she agrees.

At that, Lexa shuffles over to the next wounded prisoner. She repeats the same interaction with each one. She finishes with the last wounded prisoner at the same time that Clarke feels the silent pulse inside the last cage in the stack. She purposefully avoids looking at the dead Mountain Men as she moves to stand beside Lexa.

"How many?" the Commander asks. She looks shaken, her eyes darting to each of the cages that have held her people for so long.

Clarke glances back. There are thirty total in this stack. Nine were empty, with seven of those being the ones sitting on the floor wounded. Clarke dragged wounded but living prisoners from three more. Then, there are the warriors who died in the firefight.

Clarke looks back at Lexa and clears her throat. "Eighteen prisoners," she says. "Six warriors, two Arkers."

Her words seem to hit Lexa like a blow to the chest. The brunette closes her eyes. "Twenty six," she murmurs. "And there will be many more dead from the executions." She takes a deep, steadying breath and opens her eyes. "We need to find the others."

Clarke nods her agreement and leads Lexa towards the other end of the harvest room. At the edge, it opens up into an enormous cavern lined with cages. Below and above them, more stacks are embedded in the stone walls, and some cages even hang by chains from the ceiling a few hundred yards above. Steel cables snake down between the cages, supporting swinging catwalks milling with people. There is one catwalk a few yards above and across from Clarke and Lexa. On it is Indra, unlocking cages one by one. As each door swings open, a Grounder prisoner crawls out. Most of them are covered in bandages; all of them are disheveled and dirty.

"Clarke?"

Clarke looks over to see Bellamy on the catwalk just to their right. He unlocks the last cage he can reach and guides its inhabitant off the catwalk to where the two of them are standing.

"Bellamy." A rush of relief fills Clarke at seeing him alive. She rushes forward and throws her arms around him. Though unprepared, he steadies them both quickly, but Clarke doesn't miss the hiss of pain that escapes from between his teeth. She immediately draws back, and the moment she does, she sees the hole in his upper right arm. "Oh my god."

"I'm fine," he quickly assures her.

"No you're not!" she replies. "You've been shot!"

Bellamy looks down pointedly at the smear of blood she left on the front of his shirt. Then he glances at her hand and raises his eyebrows. Incredibly, a teasing smirk finds its way onto his face.

"Fine," Clarke says, though he's said nothing. "But at least let me bandage it."

"Okay," he agrees. "But don't take too long. There's a lot of people here who need more help than I do."

Clarke nods impatiently and pushes down on his shoulders to make him sit against the wall. She kneels beside him and rips another strip from her shirt. By the end of this, she suspects she'll be half-naked.

As she works, Bellamy watches her face carefully. Clarke can tell that there are a hundred and one questions he wants to ask. Instead, all he says is, "I'm glad you're safe."

Clarke pauses in her work and looks up to meet his eyes. "I'm glad you're safe, too." They share a long look that speaks a thousand words.

"Are you done?"

Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes at Lexa's begrudging tone. She focuses back on her work, and without looking up, asks, "You're releasing the prisoners right now?"

Bellamy nods. "The soldiers all had keys to the cages. We're just trying to get out as many as we can right now."

"There were some injured where we came in."

"Yeah." Bellamy glances over at the stack at the entrance, and then grimaces at the pain that the movement elicits. "There are a lot of injured. We've been telling them to wait until help arrives." He looks up at Lexa. "I'm assuming help  _is_ on the way?"

Lexa bristles. "Of course. The other teams will be here soon. I am not a fool."

Bellamy narrows his eyes, but doesn't respond in kind. "Those who aren't seriously injured are helping how they can, but…" He swallows hard, his eyes falling to the floor. "We're going to need as many people as we can get in here."

Clarke tightens the knot on his makeshift sling and leans back. "What do you mean?"

Bellamy locks eyes with Clarke, and then Lexa. "They were executing the prisoners."

"How many?" Lexa demands.

Bellamy shakes his head. "Too many to count right now."

Dread fills Clarke's stomach. She hears Lexa let out a shaky breath behind her. Then the Commander asks in a surprisingly soft voice, "Do you have a key?"

Bellamy nods and reaches into one of the pockets of his combat pants. He pulls out a ring of keys and flicks through them until he finds a small silver one. He hands the keys over to Lexa. "That one will unlock all of the cages," he tells her. "Just be careful on the catwalks. Some of them are a little unstable."

Lexa takes the keys and nods. She hesitates for a moment, and then extends her hand. Bellamy reaches up to grasp her forearm and she pulls him to his feet. They stand there like that for a long moment, grasping each other's arms, studying one another's expressions. Then, Lexa says, "Thank you, Bellamy of the Sky People. My people and I owe you a great debt."

"Yeah, well," Bellamy says. "Let's get everyone out of here first."

Lexa nods, a small smirk on her lips. "Agreed."

With that, she releases his arm and strides towards the nearest catwalk. Her shoulder brushes Clarke's as she passes by. She turns to watch as the brunette nimbly leaps onto the catwalk and begins to usher her people out of their cages.

Clarke turns back to Bellamy. "Are there more keys?"

"Yeah." Bellamy jerks his head to one of the catwalks on their left. "There should be a few soldiers up there with keys still on them."

Clarke nods and goes to walk past him, but he stops her with his good arm. "Our people?"

"They're safe now."

Bellamy's shoulder relax. He pauses for a moment, and then motions to the dead Mount Weather soldiers scattered about the harvest chamber. "You did this?" His question is entirely the opposite of Jasper's. There is no accusation or damnation in his voice, only a question about how this war has ended.

"Yes. Lexa and I…" She can't finish that sentence.

He looks around at the blistered Mountain Men, and then at the dead and bloodied Grounders. His gaze comes back to Clarke and he studies her face. There is a long moment in which they simply stand there and look at each other. Clarke expects him to attempt to hide his disgust at what she has done. Instead, he reaches out with his good arm and pulls Clarke against his chest in a one-armed hug.

"I know you're not proud of this," he murmurs, his voice gruff. "But you had to. Remember, who we are and who we need to be to survive are different things."

Clarke drops her forehead down onto his shoulder, fighting back the sob that arises in her throat. "I don't know if that's true anymore," she whispers.

"Then maybe it's who we need to be to protect those we care about," he offers.

His words find their way into the cracks in Clarke's heart, and his voice is so soft and kind that she's can't help it anymore. She lets out a strangled sob against his chest. His grip tightens and he presses his lips to the top of her head. "You did good, Princess."

Clarke feels a bitter laugh bubble up at the nickname. She is anything but, now. She pulls away from him and looks him in the eye. "I killed all of them, Bellamy." She tries to say it with enough conviction that he will realize what a monster she has become.

But Bellamy just shakes his head. "You did what you had to do."

She almost grabs him by the shoulders to shake him, to scream at him that there is something inside of her that has the ability to unflinchingly take hundreds of innocent lives. After all he has seen her do, he must know by now that she is no longer human. She must get it through to him that he is standing side-by-side with a monster.

But then the door bursts open. In strides Octavia with over twenty Grounders hot on her heels. The moment the girl sees her brother, she rushes forward and tackles him in a hug. He yelps in pain, ripping Clarke from her reverie. She blinks at the embracing Blake siblings for a long moment before swallowing her grief and turning to the group of Grounders.

"There are over three hundred of your people in here," she tells them, once more shoving down the countless thoughts and emotions that she has not yet allowed to come to the surface. "Others are already freeing them. Your team needs to start transporting the injured. There will be minor injuries and more severe ones. Those who will live without immediate treatment can stay here for the time being. Those who will die if they don't get treatment soon need to be carried out first. They take priority. If a person can walk on their own, have them walk with you. If they can help carry the injured, have them help you on their way out. Understand?"

There is a general murmur of assent. The continuously blaring alarm seems to unnerve them.

"Good." Clarke takes in the group of burly men and nods to herself, confident they can carry the injured. "There will be dead prisoners. Leave them until last. We'll get them out once we've evacuated all of the living." She points out the smallest Grounder she can see. "You stay behind. The rest of you get moving."

Though she would never admit it aloud, Clarke is slightly shocked when they follow her orders without question. The group disperses into the harvest chamber, searching for the most severely wounded prisoners. Shouts echo through the cavern as the new team greets Indra and her men. Clarke hears Lexa's voice as she barks out a few orders, followed by the assent of several warriors.

Clarke turns to the single Grounder left behind. "Go back to the reaper tunnels and pass on the word. Make sure that any more teams coming in know what they need to do, and have someone tell the forces outside that they need to be ready to treat a lot of wounded. Let them know that the Sky People who were being kept as prisoners are also coming out."

The Grounder gives a sharp nod, quickly bows his head, and hurries out the door.

"What the hell happened in here?" Octavia is finally noticing the blistered corpses and bullet casings scattered across the floor around them.

"I'll explain later." Clarke avoids looking at either of the siblings. "Right now we need to get the prisoners out of here. Can you guys help unlock the cages?"

Octavia looks like she wants to argue, but Bellamy quickly answers for the both of them. "Yeah. We will."

Clarke nods and turns away before they can say anything else. She hops onto the catwalk Bellamy had pointed out earlier and is immediately greeted with the dead bodies of three Mountain Men. She avoids looking at their name tags as she rifles through their uniforms for the keys. She finds a set on the third soldier and picks out the silver key Bellamy had pointed out to Lexa. The stack at this catwalk has already been emptied of prisoners, but the one above it has not. A narrow steel ladder connects the two. As she climbs it, Clarke resists the temptation to look down. Though the catwalks look well maintained, they sway constantly. The steel cables that hang from the ceiling are taut enough to help stabilize them, but one wrong step could send her plummeting to the bottom, and she does not want to know how long that fall would take.

There are two rows of cages in this particular stack, each one occupied by a different Grounder. Clarke starts with the bottom row, unlocking one cage and then shuffling over to the next, letting each prisoner crawl out on their own. Once Clarke has finished with the bottom row, the freed prisoners begin to help those in the top row climb down onto the catwalk. Once all of the prisoners stand shivering on the catwalk, Clarke explains the evacuation plan and points them towards the closest solid ledge. Aside from a few needle marks and the weakness associated with being underfed and bled dry, those in this stack are relatively well off. There is some stumbling as they shuffle away and begin climbing down the ladder, but they hold each other up. Clarke calls out a warning to them about the precariousness of the catwalk before she makes her way up to the next stack of cages.

It is at the third stack she gets to that Clarke realizes the full horror of what has transpired in this chamber. She unlocks four cages before she even realizes no one is coming out of them. She peers through the bars of the fifth and is greeted with the sight of a prisoner slumped in the back corner with glassy eyes, a bullet hole in his forehead.

Clarke jerks back from the bars and her hands come away red. She rushes to one of the unlocked cages to find the inside of that one sprayed with blood as well. After that it is a frantic rush to find any living soul in the stack. With some, Clarke can immediately tell that they are dead, whether from where the bullet was placed, or from the coldness of their skin. Others, she must check their pulse, only to draw away in disappointment upon finding none.

It is in the last cage at the top right corner of the stack that Clarke finds its only survivor. There is a middle-aged Grounder woman curled up towards the back of the cage. She flinches violently when she sees Clarke, and for a moment she thinks it's fitting, considering what she's done. But then she pushes that thought aside. This woman needs her help.

"It's okay," Clarke murmurs, slowly reaching up to unlock the cage. "I'm here to help. Your people are here. We're getting everyone out."

The woman glares at her suspiciously. "The Mountain Men?" she demands.

Clarke swallows hard but refuses to break eye contact. "They're all dead."

It takes another moment longer, but the woman must see something in Clarke's gaze, because she relaxes the slightest bit. She moves as if she intends to come out, but then cries out in pain and curls in on herself further.

Clarke's eyes widen. "What's wrong?" She wedges her feet between the bars of the cage below and heaves herself up so she can look into the cage. "Where are you hurt?"

The woman groans in agony but uncurls the slightest bit. She draws her hands away and Clarke finally sees the bullet hole in her stomach. The back of the cage where she has been laying is covered in blood, and Clarke immediately knows that she's lost far too much.

"Don't move," she commands.

Clarke jerks her head around and desperately searches for one of the warriors helping to evacuate prisoners. To her relief, she spots Nyko on a ledge to her right. He is kneeling over a young man with a bloody leg, but just as Clarke considers looking for another healer, one of the warriors picks the wounded man up and helps him limp away.

"Nyko!" Clarke's shout echoes across the cavern, and it takes Nyko several seconds to find the source of her voice. Once he spots her, his eyes widen. He seems to understand immediately what is happening. He motions to another warrior standing beside him and scrambles to pick up his healing kit before stepping out onto one of the catwalks and making his way over to where she is.

Clarke turns her attention back to the woman in the cage. "Nyko will be here in a second," she tells her. "We need to get you out of this cage."

"I'm not sure I can," the woman moans.

"Not an option," Clarke replies grimly. She wiggles herself further into the cage and puts her hands on top of the woman's own bloody ones. "What's your name?"

"Savan of the Broadleaf Clan," the woman gasps out.

"Savan, my name's Clarke. I need you to listen to me. We  _have_ to get you out of this cage. I'm going to tell you what to do. Hey, look at me." Clarke waits until the woman meets her gaze before continuing. "I'm going to put pressure on your wound with one of my hands and keep your torso still with the other. I need you to push yourself out of this cage. Try using your arms and legs as much as you can, not your abdominal area."

Savan stares at her like she's grown a second head. "Abdominal…?"

Clarke almost rolls her eyes. "Where your wound is."

She nods her understanding of that. When Clarke pulls her hands away, Savan lets her, and presses her palms into either side of the cage. Clarke places one hand on the woman's hip and the other over the wound, though she does not yet apply hard pressure.

"Are you ready?" Clarke asks. "This is going to hurt."

Savan grits her teeth. "Do it."

Clarke tightens her grips on the woman's hip and presses down onto the wound. Savan howls in pain, but the muscles in her arms ripple as she begins to slide herself out of the cage. Once her right ankle slides over Clarke's shoulder, she releases Savan's hip and claps her hand down on the woman's shin, pushing her calf down into her shoulder. Clarke grunts as she twists and leans back, keeping one hand on Savan's stomach and the other on her leg. It takes several more agonizing seconds, but between the two of them, they manage to bring Savan tumbling out of the cage. Clarke throws herself beneath the woman to soften the fall, keeping a hand over her wound the entire time. Clarke feels her spine grind against the hard surface of the catwalk as Savan lands on top of her, writhing in pain. Clarke barely has time to notice there is blood soaking her hands and the front of her shirt before Savan is pulled off of her.

Nyko kneels beside Savan on the catwalk and snaps several orders in  _Trigedasleng_  to the warrior accompanying him. The warrior lunges to apply pressure to the wound and Nyko begins rummaging through his medical kit.

"Clarke," he says without looking up. "Thank you for getting her out. We will take it from here. Go free the rest."

Clarke bites her lip, wanting to argue. It goes against everything she knows to simply walk away from an individual in need of medical attention. The healer inside of her screams for her to return to Savan's side. But she knows that Nyko is a capable healer, and Savan's life can be entrusted to him. There is nothing more she can do here.

With the feeling of uselessness sinking deeper into her stomach, Clarke turns away from the three Grounders and scales up the ladder to the next catwalk. There is the corpse of a Mountain Man slumped over the edge of the catwalk, his legs blocking the top rungs of the ladder. Clarke has to push his body aside to clamber up onto the catwalk, and the way his skin bursts at her touch makes bile rise in her throat. But Clarke resists the urge to vomit into the pit below and instead turns to begin unlocking more cages.

As she unlocks more and more cages and the number of dead Grounder prisoners and Mount Weather soldiers continues to rise, Clarke finally begins to process the sheer scale of the suffering that has transpired in these halls. She steps over at least ten more Mountain Men and has to drag a few of their bodies away from the edges of the catwalks. Having been the one who slaughtered them, the least Clarke can do is give them the honor of a proper wake, and falling into the pit of the harvest chamber is not it.

But honor is not all it comes down to. After all, there is a total lack honor to be found in how this war has ended. More than anything, though, Clarke realizes that this place has simply seen too much bloodshed already.

It's a fact that becomes clearer with each cage that Clarke unlocks. There are some stacks of cages that were left untouched by the massacre. In these, each and every prisoner is alive, though far from well. They are all malnourished and pockmarked with the tell-tale signs of puncture wounds. Some are so weak they cannot stand. Others have arms so scarred over with needle marks that any tattoos they may have had are now horribly disfigured and unrecognizable. But the effects of having been used as human blood bags are more than just physical. More than once, Clarke watches Nyko attempt to close a wound, only to have his patient flinch so violently at the touch of a needle that it's nearly impossible to tie off the stitches.

Despite all of that, these individuals are the lucky ones. The stacks where Clarke finds the most Mountain Men are also the ones where Clarke finds the most death. The soldiers had no reason to suspect that they would be the ones dying in the middle of the executions, so they used a single bullet for each prisoner with the expectation that the Grounders would die eventually even if they missed. This is the reason why Clarke finds some prisoners completely unharmed peppered amongst the dead and dying. Some of them crawl out slowly, displaying the classic symptoms of shock and trauma in their cautious movement and glassy eyes. Others scramble out as if their cage is the inside of an oven. If there is more than one conscious person in a stack, they grasp each other's hands, and Clarke watches them refuse to let go even as they exit the harvest chamber. It is the Grounder equivalent of crying and embracing, and it rocks Clarke to her core.

The uninjured are few and far between in these areas, though. Much more common are those with wounds. There are bullets in arms, bullets in legs, bullets in stomach and chests and heads. With some, such as those with a hole drilled through their foot, Clarke can tell they will survive, and instructs them to wait on the catwalk to be picked up by an able-bodied Grounder.

Others, however, have lost so much blood or have an exit wound so violent that Clarke can tell almost immediately that they will not live long enough to be treated. With those who are conscious, Clarke drags them out of their cage and sits with them until they die. Exactly nine times, Clarke lays a prisoner's head in her lap and strokes their hair, trying to make their last moments as peaceful as can be. She explains what Earth looks like from space, how the oceans frame the green and brown of land, and how clouds of white wrap around the planet like a soft blanket. As their body goes limp, she recounts how one can see entire hurricanes form with an eye of calm at the center, gray arms stretching out across land and water. As the life drains from their eyes, she talks about how one can watch the sun rise up from behind the planet and turn the clouds pink and purple. As they let out one last quiet, relieved sigh, she describes how the stars are even brighter up there in the darkness, and she closes their eyes.

" _Yu gonplei ste odon_ ," Clarke murmurs, just before she gently lifts the prisoner's head off her lap and gets to her feet to face the horror of life once more.

There are others that Clarke can't even do that for. While alive, they are unconscious, and it is clear they will be dead soon. Everything inside of Clarke screams at her to help them, but she grinds down on what little humanity she has left and walks away. There are simply too many people who need aid, and she has no time to spare.

Worst of all, however, are the stacks of cages with no one left alive. Blood oozes between the bars of each cage and drips down the cavern wall. Bullet casings are scattered across the catwalks hanging at these stacks, and Clarke kicks them down into the pit with all the wrath and fury she can muster. More than anything, it is the silence that gets to her. Shouts and groans and screams of pain echo constantly across the vast expanse of the harvest chamber, and Clarke has heard countless Grounder curses spoken from those she has freed. But as she mechanically unlocks the cages at these lifeless stacks, all she is greeted with is a terrible silence. It is a silence that means that everything here is dead, and there is nothing that can be done to change that.

This is the case at the last stack of cages Clarke gets to. She checks and unlocks each cage, but there is nothing but still, bloody bodies and silence. No one moves from their cages, and Clarke realizes with a sinking feeling that they too are dead.

Clarke takes a deep, shuddering breath and swallows another wave of grief. She turns away from the cages full of blood and looks around. She's standing on one of the highest catwalks in the cavern, giving her an excellent vantage point of the rest of the chamber, which she's noticed has grown quieter. She peers over the edge of the catwalk to see the rest of the chamber mostly empty. Here and there, Grounders are carrying away the wounded and the dead, and the mutilated corpses of the Mountain Men are still scattered about the chamber. Clarke seems to be the last person unlocking cages, and largely all that remains of the massacre are the smears of blood covering every surface.

Suddenly, there is a sound behind her.  _A whimper._

Clarke whips around, searching for the source of the noise. There is nothing but cages behind her. Someone here is still alive.

Clarke dashes to the end of the stack and peers into the top cage, and then the bottom, searching frantically for any sign of movement or life. She checks each pulse, but with each body that has none, she grows more and more desperate.

When Clarke reaches the fourth cage on the bottom, she swings the door open and reaches inside to feel for a pulse. The person inside jerks away from her, and relief floods Clarke's body. She kneels, both so she can lower herself to the prisoner's level, and so she can see them better.

To Clarke's horror, she finds herself looking in at a young girl who can be no more than eight years old. Her long, dark hair is matted with filth and blood, and her face is covered in soot. She glowers back at Clarke with bright blue eyes filled with fear and defiance. With only wrappings serving as the bare minimum of garments, she shivers against the cold metal of the cage. She has her arms wrapped around her legs, and Clarke can see a bullet wound in her left calf.

Clarke reaches for her wounded leg, but the girl shrinks away from her with another whimper. Feeling a wrenching in her chest, Clarke withdraws her hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says softly. When the girl doesn't respond, Clarke lets out a sigh. She holds her hands up so the girl can see that she has nothing to hide, and then sinks down onto the floor with her legs crossed.

"I'm here to help you," Clarke tries. "I'm here to get you out."

But the girl just blinks back at her, refusing to move even as her leg continues to ooze blood.

"Clarke?" Clarke looks over to see Lexa pulling herself up onto the catwalk. She glances at the cages and then looks quickly away. The moment her gaze focuses on Clarke, her eyes widen. "You're bleeding."

Clarke looks down at herself to find that she is covered head-to-toe in blood. It's soaked into her clothes and dried into the crevices of her hand, caking her skin. Lexa rushes towards her, but Clarke shakes her head. "It's not mine. None of it is mine."

Lexa eyes Clarke carefully, looking her over for any wounds. Apparently finding none, she relaxes. "We have nearly everyone out," she tells her. "Your people as well. My warriors are gathering the rest of the dead, but we should leave soon. Our people need to see that we are alive."

Clarke nods. She looks back in at the girl and insists, "It's okay. You're safe now. You can come out."

Lexa looks startled, as if she too did not expect to find anyone alive here. "There is someone in there?"

"Yeah, but she won't come out." Clarke bites her lip. "I don't think she can understand me."

"Let me try."

Lexa crouches down beside Clarke to look inside the cage. When she sees the girl, her face cracks. For a split second, Clarke sees the utter horror and grief lying beneath the surface of her tough exterior. It's the same feeling Clarke had when she realized the Mountain Men were drilling into the bones of her people without anesthesia, the same feeling she had when they walked into the mess hall, full of the corpses of people they had killed.

But then Lexa covers up those emotions. Her next expression is one of such gentleness that Clarke knows very few people, if anyone, has ever seen it before.

" _Hei, strik won_ ," she murmurs. " _Chit laik yu tagon?_ " When the girl doesn't answer, she offers, " _Ai laik Leksa kom Trikru_."

The girl blinks owlishly at her, and then in a very quiet voice, she says, " _Ai laik Toria kom Trikru.”_

Lexa nods her approval. " _Hei Toria. Osir ste hir na sis au. Na yu komba gonot?_ "

The girl shakes her head adamantly and Lexa sighs.

"What are you saying?" Clarke has to ask.

Lexa spares her a glance before looking back to the girl. "Her name is Toria. She's from the Woods Clan. I told her we're here to help but she won't come out." She takes a deep breath. "I didn't want to do this, but…  _Yu get chon ai laik in, Toria?_ "

Toria shakes her head once more.

" _Ai laik heda_."

The girl's eyes immediately widen. " _Heda?_ " she asks disbelievingly.

Lexa smiles. " _Sha,_ " she says. " _Ai laik hir na kep yu klin_."

" _Bilaik yu sou heda?"_  Toria demands. She looks hopeful but there is suspicion in her voice.

Lexa glances at Clarke, looking strangely amused. "She wants to know if I'm really the Commander," she explains. Focusing back on Toria, she motions to her red sash and shoulder guard, but the girl still seems doubtful. Lexa hesitates for a moment, as if considering something. Then she turns to the side so the girl can see her back and draws down the collar of her coat. At the base of her neck is a tattoo of an infinity symbol cut in half by a scar. After a moment, Lexa releases her collar and turns back to smile at Toria. " _Chek au?_ "

Toria blinks out at her for a moment longer. Then, her eyes well with tears. " _Heda_ ," she sobs, reaching out for Lexa. " _Heda, Maunon-de, emo…_ "

" _Ai get in, strik won._ " Lexa reaches out and takes the girl's outstretched hand. She draws her out of the cage and hugs her against her body, taking care to avoid jostling her wounded leg. " _Emo na led yu op noumou._ "

Toria lets out a whimper and cries into Lexa's chest. The brunette lets her, keeping her arms encircled around the girl as if she can protect her from the cruelty of this cursed place. She gently strokes Toria's hair, murmuring words of comfort in  _Trigedasleng_ , repeating the same phrase several times over.

Clarke bites her lip as she watches the small Grounder girl weep. "What does it mean?" she asks. " _Emo na… led yu op…noumou?_ "

Lexa looks up from Toria, and when she meets Clarke's gaze, her expression is so fragile that Clarke is afraid she might shatter right there. When she speaks the soft translation, Clarke isn't sure if the words are meant for her or Toria. "They can't hurt you anymore."

Clarke blinks back tears and swallows hard. She reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair from Lexa's forehead. The Commander's eyes are tender as she gazes back at her.

"No, they can't," Clarke tells her softly. "You're safe now."

Lexa blinks rapidly and for a split second, Clarke could swear she sees tears. But then the brunette dips her head and presses her lips to the top of Toria's head. " _Komba, strik won_ ," she murmurs. " _Ste yuj. Teik oso bants kom disha gada._ " Clarke recognizes the phrase ' _be strong'_  among the tangle of foreign words.

Toria draws away to look up at Lexa, who meets her scrutiny with another gentle smile. The small girl sniffles and nods her agreement.

" _Os_." Lexa turns around so her back is to Toria and holds steadying hands back towards the girl. " _Gyon ona_."

Toria sends a furtive glance over at Clarke, who gives her an reassuring nod. Then she wraps her arms around Lexa's neck. Lexa hooks her arms behind the girl's knees, careful not to touch the wound in her calf. Toria wraps her legs around her waist so she's hanging off of the Commander's back like a monkey. Clarke hurries around to Lexa's front and grips both of her hands, helping her back to her feet. She doesn't let go, though, and for a long moment, it is just the two of them in this small world they have built, perfectly balanced between them. It is here, this close to Lexa, that she can see the storm of emotions behind her eyes.

"Lexa…" Clarke starts, but there is nothing that comes after. What can she say? They have both lost something that they can never get back. Undoubtedly, what the Mountain Men have done to Clarke's people is horrific, but Clarke cannot possible imagine how she would feel if it were her people in this chamber. She imagines herself singing Monty to sleep for the last time on these cold catwalks and shudders. "Your people… I..."

Lexa shakes her head, as if she cannot bear to hear anymore. She refuses to meet Clarke's eyes when she says, "Victory stands on the back of sacrifice." Her voice cracks on that last word.

Clarke opens her mouth to reply but is cut off when Toria points her finger right at her. " _Heda?_ " she asks. " _Chon em bilaik?_ "

Lexa glances back at the girl over her shoulder and then looks at the finger she has jabbed into Clarke's face with slight amusement. "She wants to know who you are," she tells Clarke. Then, to Toria, " _Em laik skai heda._ "

Toria's eyes light with curiosity. " _Skai heda?_ "

Clarke holds her hand out towards the girl. " _Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru_." It's a phrase she's heard enough by now that she can stumble her way through an introduction. Lexa gives her a startled look.

" _Skaikru?"_ Toria sounds out the word. " _Kru emo de slip daun kom skai?"_

Clarke looks to Lexa for guidance. "She wants to know if you are the ones who fell from the sky," the brunette translates, a strange twinkle in her eye.

Clarke nods and extends her hand out further. Toria's eyes widen. She tentatively reaches out to touch Clarke's fingers, then jerks her hand back as if the contact has shocked her. When she hesitates once again, Clarke gives her an encouraging smile. She extends her hand once more and lays her palm onto Clarke's. When Clarke grasps her small fingers, Toria stares up at Clarke's face with reverence, as if she is in the presence of a goddess. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke can see Lexa watching the exchange with something akin to adoration.

" _Klo…_ " Toria tries. " _Klar…"_

" _Klark_ ," Clarke confirms.

" _Klark!"_

Clarke nods, her heart breaking at the pure joy and excitement in the girl's voice. Here is a child who has been captured and imprisoned for who knows how long only so that she could be drained of her blood to heal selfish men and women who are so afraid to die that they are willing to take the life of someone less than half their age.

But then, Clarke remembers the blonde boy in the mess hall. He could be no more than a few months older than Toria, and yet, there had been nobody to rescue him. Instead, he had died slowly and painfully with the rest of his people. Had there been anyone with similar traits around him? Had he watched his parents die before succumbing to the radiation? Is that why he had been crying?

_Oh, god. What have I done?_

Clarke jerks quickly away from Toria, suddenly convinced that her touch will kill the girl in the same way it has indiscriminately killed hundreds of others. She takes several steps back, needing to put some distance between them.

"Clarke?" Lexa's brow knits with concern.

"We should go," Clarke says, unable to meet her eyes.

Lexa looks as if she wants to say more, but the shadow on Clarke's face must convince her otherwise, because she simply nods. " _Yu ste ogud, strik won?_ " she asks Toria. The girl, while slightly confused, seems eager to leave the harvest chamber, and nods fervently. Lexa looks back at Clarke. "Can you guide us out?"

"Yeah." Clarke turns away so the other girl can't see the tears in her eyes. "At least I can get someone out of here alive."

There is a sharp intake of breath behind her, but Clarke refuses to look at Lexa, instead lowering herself onto the ladder and sliding down to the catwalk below. Lexa follows silently behind her, Toria still perched on her back. They navigate the web of ladders, catwalks, and cables, stepping in countless puddles of blood and passing several Grounders pulling the dead from their cages. Clarke hears Lexa murmur to Toria several times in a comforting voice as they pass some of the more gruesome scenes.

When they near the solid ledge they had originally come from, Clarke spots a pile of bodies that she realizes are the dead Mountain Men. As she watches, a Grounder warrior pulls one of the bodies from the pile and drags it towards the edge. Then he drops the soldier's corpse, puts his boot against it, and shoves it into the pit with his foot.

"Hey!" Clarke shouts. " _Hey!"_

Her words echo across the cavern, and from all sides of the harvest chamber, heads turn towards the commotion. The Grounder warriors on the ledge see her and freeze. Clarke hops off the catwalk and onto solid ground. "What the hell are you doing?" she demands, advancing on them.

The warrior who pushed the body into the pit puffs out his chest. "They are the Mountain Men," he says matter-of-factly. "We are leaving them where they belong."

Clarke grits her teeth. "And what about the others?"

The warriors exchange a glance. "Others?"

"Yes, others." The image of the mess hall is burned into Clarke's mind. She will never forget what she saw in there. "There are  _hundreds_  of them in the mess hall and the dorm. Are you going to throw all of them down there too?"

The same warrior shrugs. "Let them rot."

Lexa appears at her side, Toria still in tow. "Catan-"

Clarke interrupts her. "Let them rot?" She can hardly believe what she's hearing. "How would you like it if we left  _your_ people to rot?"

Catan dismisses her with a wave of his hand. "They are not our people, and we owe them nothing. The war is over. This is what it means to lose."

Blood surges in Clarke's ears. Lexa had told Cage this war was no longer about winning, but about saving as many lives as possible. Yet, there is bloodshed everywhere. There is no winning this war. They all lost this time.

She looks down to the blood staining the floor beneath her feet. It reminds her of Savan, and the prisoners she was forced to walk away from as they lay dying in cages like animals. She remembers the drill sinking into her mother's bones, her mouth stretching wide in a scream of agony. The cries of her people had been so desperate as they were freed. Jasper's voice echoes in her ears as he condemns her for the unforgivable sin she has committed. She thinks back to the mess hall, to the hundreds of innocent lives she ended for these people, to the blonde boy who cried as he was boiled alive. She was the one who did this, and everything be damned if she doesn't see it through.

Clarke brushes past the warrior and then turns around to face his back. She grabs the straps of his armor and yanks him towards the edge. Before Catan can so much as scream, Clarke has him on his toes on the brink of the ledge, hanging out towards the pit. The only thing keeping him from tipping over into the abyss is Clarke's grip on the straps of his armor, and he has no way to reach back and stop her.

"Your Commander and I are the ones who ended this war," Clarke growls. "We were the ones who felled this Mountain, and we did it single-handedly. I've killed hundreds today, and they were innocent. Adding your life among them means nothing to me, and I'm starting to think that maybe  _you're_  the one who deserves to rot down there."

Catan furiously shakes his head, babbling in  _Trigedasleng._  Clarke narrows her eyes. Most Grounder warriors she's met show more courage in the face of death, but apparently this is not a trait that they all share.

"We  _will_  give them a proper memorial later," she orders. "If I find out that there's any bodies left down there by the end of it, you won't get one. Do you understand?"

Catan nods enthusiastically. Clarke glares around at the other warriors on the ledge, and they all mutter their compliance.

"Good." Clarke reels the man back onto solid ground and steps away. Her hands leave red prints on his back, and she suddenly remembers that she is covered head-to-toe in blood. She looks around and sees the last straggling prisoners watching the exchange with wide eyes, and a glance upwards shows the same expression on the Grounders scattered about the harvest chamber. The only one who will meet her gaze is Lexa. She looks almost proud, though there is a sadness to her eyes that Clarke knows only she can see. Over her shoulder, Toria shrinks back from her gaze.

The alarm is still blaring.

Clarke swallows hard, reminded once again that she is a monster with the deaths of hundreds of innocent people resting on her shoulders, nothing more than a murderer with the ability to make hard choices. But she is also a leader, and there is still much that needs to be done. She looks around once more at the people around her.

"Come on," she tells them, motioning to the half dozen prisoners that remain. "Let's get these people out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ai gonplei nou ste odon.” - My fight is not over.
> 
> "Yu gonplei ste odon." - Your fight is over.
> 
> "Hei, strik won. Chit laik yu tagon? Ai laik Leksa kom Trikru." - Hi, little one. What's your name? I'm Lexa of the Woods Clan.
> 
> "Ai laik Toria kom Trikru" - I'm Toria of the Woods Clan."
> 
>  
> 
> "Hei Toria. Osir ste hir na sis au. Na yu komba gonot?" - Hi Toria. We're here to help. Will you come out?
> 
> "Yu get chon ai laik in, Toria?" - Do you know who I am, Toria?
> 
> "Ai laik heda." - I'm the Commander.
> 
> "Sha. Ai laik hir na kep yu klin." - Yes. I'm here to free you.
> 
> "Bilaik yu sou heda?" - Are you really the Commander?
> 
> "Chek au?" - See?
> 
> "Heda, Maunon-de, emo…" - Commander, the Mountain Men, they...
> 
> "Ai get in, strik won. Emo na led yu op noumou." - I know, little one. They can't hurt you anymore.
> 
> "Komba, strik won. Ste yuj. Teik oso bants kom disha gada." - Come, little one. Be strong. Let us leave this place.
> 
> "Os. Gyon ona." - Good. Climb on.
> 
> "Heda? Chon em bilaik?" - Commander? Who is she?
> 
> "Em laik skai heda." - She's the Sky Commander.
> 
> "Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru." - I'm Clarke of the Sky People.
> 
> "Skaikru? Kru emo de slip daun kom skai?" - Sky People? The people who fell from the sky?
> 
> "Yu ste ogud, strik won?" - Are you ready, little one?


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa return to camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. I know it's been several months since I last updated, but I definitely don't plan on giving up on this piece. Life has just been hectic. I've been working 37 hours a week on top of taking 17 college credit hours and working on my admission into nursing school. Depression sucks too, but that's besides the point!
> 
> Originally, this chapter was part of a longer part, but I decided to split it up so I could get this out sooner. It willl probably take at least another month to finish the next part as well. Sorry 'bout that. Thank you for your patience and enjoy!
> 
> Inspiration for this chapter was "Smother" by Daughter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GnkzvAXWV-0

_Gon Kru Oso Noumou Gada_

(For Those We've Lost)

Part III

It will haunt her nightmares.

Clarke knows that everything she has seen here will haunt her dreams. Easy rest has become a thing of the past for her. It fled the moment Clarke slipped a knife between Finn's ribs. But now, she knows there will be no simple dreams. From this day forward, sleep will bring no rest for her, only memories of fire and blood pumping to the beat of that damned alarm. She knows that eventually it will stop for the Mountain. She does not know if it will ever stop for her.

Perhaps Lexa is thinking the same thing. She and Clarke are both silent as they walk side-by-side through the hallways of Mount Weather, the last of the prisoners and warriors trailing behind them. It is slow going as they lead the last of their people down to the reaper tunnels. Most of the warriors at their backs are supporting prisoners or carrying Grounder corpses. Toria still clings to Lexa, and Clarke has picked up one of the wounded prisoners, a lithe young woman with brown hair and a bullet in her ankle. She hobbles along with an arm wrapped around Clarke's shoulders, but despite the ever-present grimace on her face, she refuses to stop or slow down. In a way, Clarke is glad. None of them want to stay in these halls any longer than necessary.

When they finally reach the reaper tunnels, Lexa posts a small contingent of Grounders at the door leading into Mount Weather with instructions to keep it open. Even so, Clarke pats at her jacket to ensure that the key card she picked up from one of the dead Mountain Men is still in her pocket. They leave the guards at the door and start through the twisting damp caverns, away from the death permeating the halls of Mount Weather, away from that forsaken alarm. Before they've even made it five yards, they are greeted by Penn, who insists he can guide them out of the tunnels and back to camp. He pulls a piece of charcoal from a pouch at his hip and draws symbols on the walls as he goes, marking the path that will lead back to the entrance of Mount Weather when the need arises to return.

Once they have gone far enough into the tunnels that they can no longer hear the echo of the alarm, Lexa starts a hushed conversation with the Grounder leaning into Clarke's side. They speak quietly, so that only Clarke and Toria hear them, but with their rapid-fire  _Trigedasleng_ , Clarke is utterly lost. Over Lexa's shoulder, Toria listens attentively, eyes alight with curiosity. More than once she furrows her brow and interjects with what Clarke presumes to be a question or comment. Each time, the two women spare the girl a short, cautious glance before continuing their discussion. The third time Toria interrupts, Lexa bites her lip and suddenly switches to English.

"You know I can't do that," she tells the Grounder.

"But you  _are_ giving us a choice?" the Grounder demands.

"Of course." Lexa says it as if it should be obvious.

"Then let them come!" the woman insists. "You know as well as I do that Polis is the only place Nia can't reach. They'll be safest there."

Lexa grits her teeth. "I have to tread lightly, Echo. Nia's words are her weapon. If I take them with me to Polis, she will claim it was against their will, and all of you will be forced to return anyways."

"Not necessarily," Echo shoots back. "If given the choice, I know that many of my people will not return, even if it is at Nia's demand."

Lexa scoffs. "As if she will give in so easily. She would send an army after you, if only to prove she still holds control."

"Then you can protect us," Echo counters. "Your power is absolute in Polis. The capitol is defended well, and we will be too."

"And start another war?" Lexa shakes her head adamantly. "I think not."

"A worthy cause to free your people from tyranny," Echo maintains. "How is that any different from the war we just won?"

Clarke flinches at her words. Echo glances at her strangely, but turns her eyes back to Lexa when the brunette says, "You make it sound as if you are encouraging such a war."

Echo stiffens at Clarke's side. "That is not my intention."

"Really?" Lexa turns to her with hard eyes. "I find it hard to believe that you,  _Eko_   _kom Azgeda_ , would turn away from your queen so easily. You are one of Nia's top generals, and your loyalty has always been to her alone. You were born and raised in the Ice Nation. It is all you have ever known."

With a jolt, Clarke realizes what, exactly,  _Azgeda_  is: the Ice Nation. The same Ice Nation whose queen tortured and killed Costia. Clarke remembers the slight tremble in Lexa's voice as they stared down at the burnt remains of Finn's funeral pyre. The only time she had dared broach the topic of the Ice Nation after that – a question genuinely asked for the wellbeing of her people – the Commander's expression had hardened. She answered the question before quickly steering the conversation back to the map spread out before them. As time passed, Clarke had studied and learned the many facets that made up Lexa, and she had recognized the sheer grief and anger that boiled beneath the surface of her skin when speaking of the Ice Nation or its queen. Now, neither of those emotions are present. Rather, there is only suspicion and…hope?

Echo works her jaw. "It is true that I am one of her top generals, and that I grew up in  _Azgeda_ ," she finally admits. "But it is not true that my loyalty belongs solely to Nia."

"Then where do your loyalties lie?" Lexa probes, in a tone that suggests Echo consider her next words very carefully.

Echo meets her gaze evenly. "My loyalty lies with the Ice Nation first, and the throne second."

"And the Commander?" Lexa's expression is unreadable.

Echo smirks. "Third."

Lexa nods, looking oddly amused. "Then you will not blame me for doubting your intentions."

Echo is silent for several long moments. Her voice is low and almost sad when she says, "I trusted that the queen was doing what was right for our people. I have believed this all my life, and if things had turned out differently, then perhaps I still would. And yet…" She glances back at the Grounders trailing along behind them. "I see no  _Azgeda_  warriors among this army."

Lexa looks away, the muscles in her jaw tense. "I called upon the entire Coalition to assist in the war efforts, but Nia remained silent and sent no aid."

Echo nods almost glumly, as if accepting the loss of a loved one. "Then I do this for my people." She focuses back on Lexa. "People that need your help."

"I must ensure that  _all_ of my people are taken care of." There is a warning in Lexa's voice, but Echo doesn't seem to notice.

"We are your people too."

Lexa grits her teeth. "Echo…"

Echo lowers her voice to a hushed murmur. "I saw Roan in the outskirts several times before I was taken. If you lift his banishment-"

" _Em pleni!_ " Lexa snaps. The low talking around them goes silent and Penn shoots a dismayed glanced at them over his shoulder. Toria shrinks into herself.

Echo can hold Lexa's glare for only a moment before she casts her eyes downward. "I apologize,  _heda,_ " she mutters. "It was not my intention to anger you."

Lexa doesn't answer, just surveys her for a long moment. Then she glances back at Toria and murmurs a few comforting words. Once the girl has relaxed somewhat, Lexa turns her gaze forward once more. Several long moments pass in tense silence, the tunnels filled only with the sound of their group's footfalls. Then, slowly, the conversations around them pick up once more. The Grounders murmur quietly to each other, but they occasionally look to the Commander, as if to check that she will not explode again. Clarke and Lexa's own small congregate walks in tense silence for several more minutes before the brunette finally speaks.

"I am well aware of the situation regarding the Ice Nation," she allows, eyes still trained forward. "I do not intend for my people to be freed from the Mountain only to become prisoners in their own lands. That includes  _Azgeda_." She turns her gaze towards Echo. "But you must remember that my people are also the entirety of the Coalition. I cannot focus on  _Azgeda_  alone. The Mountain has harmed each and every clan, and I must make reparations in accordance with that.  _All_  of those freed have been displaced, and I must ensure that each of them has a home to which they can return…should they wish.

"In addition, I must also see to the wounded and the dead. The Mountain may have been defeated, but we will not be able to move forward if we do not properly mourn our losses and celebrate our triumphs. The death of the Mountain Men marks a new beginning for the Coalition. Peace is tedious; even more so with the loss of our common enemy. If I do not manage this correctly, the Coalition will shatter, and I cannot allow that to happen."

Lexa's eyes wander over to meet Clarke's, and her expression softens. "There is also the matter concerning  _skaikru_. I do not intend for the end of the Mountain to be the end of the alliance." For a moment, Clarke isn't sure who she is speaking to. But then, her gaze goes back to Echo. "I will address the issue of the  _Azgeda_  prisoners in time. But at the current moment, I have much more pressing matters to attend to."

Echo finally looks up. She seems to study Lexa for a long moment before bowing her head in gratitude. "I understand,  _heda_."

Lexa nods and turns her gaze forward once again. "In the meantime," she says. "I believe it would be beneficial to your people to ensure that their interests are aligned. You already hold a position of power in the Ice Nation. It would not be a stretch for you to rally them beneath your leadership until I am able to provide them with stability."

It is not quite a command, nor a question. It cannot even be considered a suggestion, but Echo seems to recognize Lexa's intentions all the same. She nods her understanding, her assent, and that is that.

Clarke knows she has just missed something significant, but when she opens her mouth to ask questions, Lexa locks eyes with her and shakes her head slightly. The message is clear:  _Later._

At that moment, Penn slows so that he is only a few steps ahead of them. " _Heda_ ," he says. "The exit is just up ahead."

Indeed, there is a faint light coming from ahead, and though she cannot see the source, Clarke suspects it is daylight. With each step they take, their surroundings become brighter.

" _Mochof, Pen_ ," Lexa replies. "Where are the prisoners being treated?"

"Base camp," Penn answers. "Once all of the dying were treated, our healers returned there. We do have horses waiting to transport the injured." He peers over their heads to count the Grounders following them through the tunnels. "I believe we will have enough for everyone in this group to ride."

"Do you know who we lost?" Clarke asks him.

"No. I have been moving our warriors through the tunnels." He looks at her, expression solemn. "But I counted many dead, and many more injured."

Clarke swallows hard. She glances over at Lexa, and the brunette meets her gaze with eyes heavy from the costs of war. For just a moment, they share their grief and their losses through a single look. Their intentions were good, but so many people are hurt and dead because of their choices. They are the ones who started this war, and they are the ones who ended it. Clarke knows now that she is not a good guy. She has ended too many lives for that to be true. But looking at the fragility beneath Lexa's expression and knowing that it is reflected back by her own eyes, Clarke knows that there is at least one person who never expected her to be.

Maybe right now that's enough.

Penn's voice interrupts her thoughts. "We're here."

Clarke focuses forward as they turn a corner. Just a few feet ahead is the mouth of the tunnel. They have been walking in the musty darkness of the reaper tunnels for so long that the muted light coming from the entrance is almost blinding. She squints against the brightness and looks once more at Lexa.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get back to our people."

Lexa nods, and together, she and Clarke step out into the morning sunlight.

* * *

The ride back is quiet. They are all recovering from the horror inside the Mountain. Clarke tries not to think about the bodies left behind in Mount Weather, or the stench of death that was already filling its halls by the time they left. If they are really to have a memorial for the Mountain Men, someone will have to move the bodies. Clarke is certain she herself will not be tasked with that particular job, and she is infinitely glad for it.

"You are Clarke."

The voice jolts Clarke from her thoughts. She glances back over her shoulder at Echo, seated in the saddle behind her. It surprises her how quickly word has spread among the freed prisoners as to who she is, but Clarke supposes it was inevitable considering the situation.

"Yes," she says simply.

"You are the leader of the Sky People." It is not a question.

"Yes."

Echo nods. Clarke has simply confirmed what she already knows. "Bellamy told me about you."

That gets Clarke's attention. "You know Bellamy?"

"He was locked in the cage beside mine in the Mountain," Echo explains. "He told me about the alliance before he escaped, and described you as well when he gave me the keys to free the rest of the prisoners. He charged me with leading the fight inside the Mountain."

Lexa sits atop a horse at Clarke's side, Toria perched in the saddle in front of her. At Echo's words, Lexa looks over and locks eyes with Clarke. The prisoners were taken hostage sometime between Bellamy handing those keys to Echo and him returning to find them all locked up once more. There is a stretch of time that is unaccounted for, and though knowing will change nothing, Clarke hopes that any explanation can help smooth over any misguided hostility in the future.

Clarke tears her gaze from Lexa and looks back at Echo once more. "How did that happen?" she asks. "How did the Mountain Men take all of you as hostages?"

"The fight was over before it even began." Echo clenches her jaw. "I had only freed a few of the prisoners before several of their warriors entered. By that time, Bellamy was gone, but we had no chance. They shot those of us who were free and took the keys from me."

"They did not shoot to kill," Lexa guesses.

"Not at first." Echo shakes her head, brow furrowed. "That is what I did not understand. It seemed as if they wished to keep us all alive at first, but after some time, they seemed to have been given a command. Once they did, they began shooting without discretion."

Lexa locks eyes with Clarke once more before looking quickly away, expression hard. Though it is barely visible, Clarke can tell there is a turmoil going on beneath the Commander's mask. The Mountain Men hadn't been bluffing when they offered Lexa the deal to free her people in exchange for abandoning Clarke's, but from how Lexa had reacted just outside the entrance of Mount Weather, Clarke doubts the brunette ever thought they were.

Lexa knew that the prisoners inside the Mountain were in danger of retaliation if she refused the deal. She had said it herself as she and Clarke urgently constructed their new plan of action though the reaper tunnels. Clarke had seen the Commander do ruthless things, yes, but she knew it had always been with the intention of the greater good of her people in mind. As much as Clarke hates the idea of it, even she can see that accepting the deal from the Mountain Men was, logically, the best course of action.

So then why?

" _Heda!_ "

" _Em laik heda!_ "

Clarke is pulled from her thoughts by dozens of voices calling out. Up ahead of them is a large clearing, and with a jolt, she realizes that they have reached the edge of base camp, a few miles west of Tondc. As their group emerges from the trees, more heads turn towards them. Warriors and freed prisoners alike stand to greet them, and a chorus of voices rises up around them. Within moments, she and Lexa are surrounded by Grounders calling out to them with triumphant voices. A cheer goes up as word of their arrival sweeps across the camp. It is not quite what Clarke would call a celebration, but it clearly serves as an acknowledgement of victory. There is gratitude in the faces of those around them, though Clarke is not sure if it is for the safety of her life or theirs.

Beside her, Lexa sits up straight in her saddle, head held high, wearing the pride of their victory like a badge. With the Commander's arms gripping the reins on either side of her, Toria gawks around at the crowd with wide-eyes amazement.

Echo chuckles dryly behind Clarke. "I doubt she's experienced anything quite like this," she says, watching the small Grounder girl.

 _Neither have I_ , Clarke thinks, because the last time she remembers receiving gratitude was the night Finn died, but she doesn't say that.

Their entourage continues forward despite the growing crowd. As they move further into camp, those riding behind them begin to split away. The injured are helped down off their horses and guided into what Clarke can only assume are healer tents. Warriors hand their horses off to other warriors and begin to strip away their armor and furs.

Their numbers dwindle down until it is just Clarke and Lexa with their passengers amongst the crowd. Eventually, they reach what Clarke recognizes as the war tent. It is here that Lexa dismounts her horse and hands the reins off to the nearest warrior. The crowd sucks in a collective breath as if expecting her to speak. Instead, she simply lifts Toria out of the saddle and ducks into the tent.

Suddenly, Clarke feels all eyes turn to her. Swallowing hard, she slides out of her saddle and turns back to help Echo down as well. One warrior steps forward to take the reins from her. Clarke pulls Echo's arm around her shoulders and guides her into the war tent.

Inside the tent, Lexa is helping Toria climb onto a pile of furs in the corner. Clarke scans the tent for another place to rest, but finding none, she helps Echo limp towards them. Toria watches warily as the woman settles into place beside her. Echo smiles disarmingly at her and the girl relaxes slightly.

" _Heya_ ," she greets. " _Ai laik Toria kom Trikru. Chon yu bilaik?_ "

Echo looks both startled and slightly uncomfortable to find the small girl speaking to her. She opens her mouth to reply, but cuts it short with a sharp hiss. She glares down at Clarke accusingly.

"I'm checking to make sure it's not infected," Clarke says in lieu of an apology. Still, she tries to be gentler as she continues to prod at the area around Echo's ankle. Fortunately, the bullet wound shows no signs of infection. Clarke shuffles over to Toria to examine her leg as well, and utter relief fills her to find it in a similar state.

Clarke stands and turns to Lexa. "Neither of their wounds have gotten infected yet, but I need to clean them up before anything else," she says. "Where can I get supplies?"

But Lexa simply shakes her head. "There is no need for that, Clarke."

Clarke furrows her brow. "They need to be-"

Just then, Indra steps through the entrance of the tent. Her eyes find Lexa first. " _Heda_ ," she greets, and Clarke swears there is relief somewhere in that word. She acknowledges Clarke with a nod, and then her gaze travels over to Toria and Echo, both of whom are staring back with guarded expressions.

Indra's eyes narrow. " _Heda_ ," she says, not even bothering to lower her voice or look away from the two. "What are they doing here? They should be outside, not in-"

"They are freed prisoners, Indra," Lexa snaps. "They are wounded, and they need to be treated. Go get a healer, and bring them here."

Indra hesitates for a long moment, but after a sharp look from Lexa, she simply nods. She turns on her heel and strides back out.

There is a moment of a silence before Echo states, "I am Ice Nation. She is not happy to see me in your company."

Lexa lets out a short breath, the Commander's equivalent to a bitter laugh. "I am well aware, Echo."

There is a pause, and Clarke's eyes fall to the war table at the center of the tent, still weighed down by the scaled-down model of Mount Weather. The main door stands strong, and she has an almost hysterical urge to rip it away the same way the real thing was blown off its hinges. When Clarke lifts her gaze up from the model, it is to find Lexa staring at her from across the table. Her expression is unreadable, but Clarke thinks that, maybe, she doesn't need to be able to read Lexa's expression to know what she is feeling.

No more than a minute after she left, Indra returns. This time, she has a lithe man stepping on her heels. He takes in Lexa and Clarke before his eyes go to Echo and Toria, and the small pool of blood gathering at their feet. He is at their side in an instant, hands flying as he begins to dig into his healer's kit.

"Their wounds aren't infected," Clarke tells him without moving. "But they do need to be cleaned and bandaged." The healer spares her no more than a glance and a nod before he gets to work on the two.

"Indra," Lexa says. "What is the state of our camp?"

Indra tears her eyes away the healer and straightens. "Camp is secure,  _heda_ ," she says. "We have guards posted at the borders. The injured are all being treated and our warriors are resting. Our people are waiting for further orders."

Lexa nods tiredly. "Very well. Fetch one of the Sky People and bring them here. We will be in my tent. Clarke, if you will?"

Indra nods and exits the tent once more. Lexa moves after her and motions for Clarke to do the same. Clarke glances over at Echo and Toria one last time before following the brunette out of the tent.

As Indra sets off through the sprawling camp, Clarke follows Lexa to the Commander's tent, set directly opposite of the war tent. She can still feel eyes on her as they cross the short distance between the two tents, but the crowd has dispersed, and the murmured sounds of their titles remain quiet and contained.

The first thing Lexa does when the two of them duck into her tent is to reach for the maps piled atop one of the tables pushed off to the side. She shuffles through the papers before withdrawing one in particular. Then she reaches for a chunk of charcoal balancing on the edge of the table and begins to mark the paper. Clarke wanders up beside her and recognizes the rough drawing on the page as the reaper tunnels.

"What are you…?"

"We have maps of the tunnels, but it will help to know which parts we are familiar with at this point," Lexa explains as she begins to shade certain passageways. "It will be useful in retrieving reapers in the coming days."

The mention of finding reapers hits Clarke like a blow to the chest. So much has happened that she can hardly think of the next few hours, much less the next few days. Clarke has committed an act she never thought she would, has seen horrors she did not expect when they began marching towards the Mountain. Mere hours ago, she ended the lives of dozens of children and soaked her hands in the blood of hostages she doomed to a merciless execution. Clarke has done unforgivable things before, but now she is unrecognizable even to herself.

They just murdered three hundred people. How can Lexa think further than that?

But then Lexa sets the charcoal down and presses her fingers to her brow, right where her wound is. The gash above her eye is clotted over with dried blood, but the moment Lexa presses her fingers against it, the wound immediately reopens.

Lexa doesn't seem to notice. "Recovering those turned into reapers was the basis of this alliance," she murmurs, half to herself and half to Clarke. "Following through with that task is vital in ensuring it remains stable." She smoothes the map of the tunnels out on the wood of the table and shoots an almost apologetic look at Clarke. "The alliance has become much more than that, of course, but it is a promise I must keep for my people."

Clarke bites her lip. "I understand, but…"

Lexa looks intently down at the map and digs her fingers in further. "There's also the matter of  _Azgeda_. I don't know whether or not I can truly trust Echo, but I know that there are many in the Ice Nation who disagree with Nia's way of rule. If what she said about Roan is true…"

"Lexa," Clarke says.

" _Azgeda_  is not the only faction we need to be concerned about," the brunette continues, seemingly oblivious to Clarke, despite the fact that she seems to be including her in the monologue. "Members from every clan were locked away in Mount Weather. It will be a major effort to send them all back. Perhaps a transport to Polis is the best answer."

" _Lexa_ ," Clarke implores.

"Playing favorites would be the worst course of action." Her fingers are pressing harder against her skull. Black blood is beginning to drip from the wound, but Lexa doesn't seem to notice. "With the Mountain no longer being a threat, there's no telling how the other clans will react. These next few weeks will be pivotal is establishing the direction of the Coalition's future. All of that being said, an alliance with  _skaikru_  might be-"

Clarke's hand shoots out to grab the other girl's wrist. "Lexa, stop!"

The Commander freezes, staring at Clarke as if she is coming out of some kind of trance. Clarke gently pulls her hand away from her face, and Lexa looks startled to see black blood coating her fingers. The gash above her eye has reopened, and blood has begun to trickle down over her brow and down the side of her nose.

Lexa begins to pull away. "I apologize. I…"

Clarke keeps ahold of her wrist. "Lexa," she repeats once more. "Stop."

Lexa shakes her head. "Clarke," she says. "I don't know-"

"You don't need to do this to yourself," Clarke tells her, voice gentle. "You don't need to make yourself hurt more. You don't need to feel more pain." She reaches out and loops her fingers around Lexa's other wrist. "Haven't you suffered enough?"

The mask drops almost instantly. Lexa looks down at Clarke's hands on her wrists and swallows hard. When she lifts her gaze back up, the answer is there in her eyes. Clarke feels a wave of sadness wash over her. Lexa has always been an enigma, but no matter how hard she tries to hide it from Clarke, she knows the Commander's heart bleeds just as much as her own.

God, there's blood covering both of their hands.

"Come on," she tells her, gently tugging her towards the ramshackle throne at the head of the tent. "I need to stitch that up."

Lexa weakly resists for a moment, but Clarke throws a look over her shoulder, and the Commander gives in. Clarke leads her to the throne and the brunette drops heavily into it. Clarke spots a healer's kit in the far corner of the tent and moves to pick it up. When she turns back towards the throne, her heart breaks a little more.

The first time Clarke met her in this very tent, she lounged on the same throne, exuding confidence and danger. She flaunted her dagger, a subtle yet obvious warning that she could slit Clarke's throat and order the death of the Sky People with a wave of her hand.

But right now, Lexa is not that person. She is slumped back into her seat, her hands hanging off the edges of the throne. Her skin and clothes are caked in blood. Her eyes follow Clarke almost warily, as if afraid she will attack, as if she still does not trust her enough to rest.

Yet, she looks so tired.

Clarke let a slight, sad sigh and sets the healing kit on the arm of the throne. The Commander is watching her as she rifles through it for the right supplies. Once she finds them, she straightens and meets the brunette's eyes.

"That's a deep cut," Clarke warns. "It's going to hurt."

Lexa doesn't say anything, but the corner of her mouth turns up into a bitter smile. Somehow, Clarke knows exactly what that means without her speaking a word. Nothing can hurt more than having your soul ripped from your body. No amount of medicine will heal the damage that has been done.

Clarke pulls a piece of cloth from the healing kit and soaks it in water from her canteen. Lexa doesn't even flinch when Clarke presses it to her wound. She simply stares straight ahead, as if Clarke isn't even there. They sit in silence as she cleans the wound. It takes several minutes, and when Clarke finally pulls away, the cloth is covered in black and red – a strange mix of Lexa's blood and everyone else's. In a way, it seems fitting. Lexa has always bled for her people, in the same way that she soaks her hands in the blood of their enemies in order to save them.

Clarke tosses the cloth aside and kneels down to rummages through the healer's kit once more. She soon finds the thick needle and thread that pass for stitching to the Grounders. Using it is much more painful than what they used to have on the Ark, but it's what Clarke has, so it will have to do.

Threading the needle is an endeavor in itself. Clarke has practiced enough on Grounder wounds, especially after Tondc, but this is somehow different. The needle keeps pricking into her palm. The thread won't go through - her hands are shaking. They've never done that before, have they?

No, this is different. It's as if Clarke can feel the souls of the Mountain rattling around inside her, making her bones shake. They cling to her skin, and all Clarke can see is the mess hall, filled with the bodies of those whose souls she scorched. The harvest chamber too, with its cold metal catwalks. There is so much blood on her but none of it is hers, and it's fitting. Clarke did not lose her life, but so many did. No amount of healing or stitches will ever make up for all of souls that Clarke failed to save today.

"Clarke."

There are little dots of red blooming up from her palm, but Clarke still can't stop shaking. She can sew up wounds as much as she wants but she can't do the same for souls. She can't do the same for her soul and she can't do the same for Lexa's and she can't save any of the souls she killed today and-

" _Clarke_."

Lexa's fingers slide over her knuckles, stilling Clarke's trembling hands. She looks up into green eyes, and there is so much emotion there that Clarke can hardly put a name to it all.

"It's okay," the Commander says. "You can do this."

She isn't talking about the thread and needle.

Still, Clarke nods and focuses back on the task at hand. With Lexa's hands still hovering over her own, she slips the thread through the eye of the needle and pulls it through. Clarke lets out a small sigh and straightens up.

"This is going to hurt," she warns.

"I know," Lexa says, almost sadly. Again, Clarke knows she isn't talking about the stitches. She swallows hard and reaches out for the brunette's jaw to steady her head, but Lexa flinches away.

Clarke draws back quickly. "I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I just need-"

"I know." Lexa closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath. When she opens them again, her gaze is a little steadier. She leans forward to give Clarke better access to the gash on her brow. When Clarke hesitates, the Commander gives her a permissive nod.

Clarke moves towards her again, more slowly this time. She crouches down onto her haunches and steadies the heel of her hand against the brunette's temple. She pauses one more time, but Lexa nods the tiniest bit. With a deep breath, Clarke starts the stitches. Now, her hands are steady. Again, they sit in silence as she works. Though deep, the wound is not large, and it takes Clarke mere minutes to sew it closed. Once she's finished, she ties the stitches and cuts them away with her dagger. She stows away the needle back into the healer's kit and leans back on her heels.

Clarke's gaze finds its way back to her hands, still covered in blood, smears of black scattered among the red. Maybe it's Lexa's, or maybe it's soot. It doesn't matter much. Her hands are covered in her sins, the same way the mess hall was covered with the corpses of those whose lives she had ended. She keeps trying to shove the image away from her mind, but it just keeps coming back. It's that boy. Clarke can't help but think she must have met him before she escaped the Mountain, and it makes bile rise up to the back of her throat.

Merging into the image of the mess hall is the harvest chamber, creating a pile of bodies so large that Clarke cannot even count them all. Again, there is the small blond boy, the one Clarke knows she will never be able to forget. There's his nameless parents, coupled with all of the other people of the Mountain. With them are the Grounders from Tondc and the harvest chamber. There's the Arkers Clarke sent to diffuse the bombs and the ones she sent to die inside Mount Weather. There's the members of the 48 who were drained of their bone marrow.

How many lives did Clarke really save?

How many did she end?

"What have I done?" Clarke whispers.

"Clarke."

Lexa's voice pulls her from her thoughts. Clarke looks up from her hands and nearly flinches back. Lexa's face is inches away. She's leaning forward in her throne, her eyes flickering across Clarke's face. Though not quite concerned, her expression is soft. Yet again, she seems to understand the war being waged inside of Clarke's chest. Yet again, she seems to expect no answers. She seems to already know that there are none.

Clarke looks back down at her blood-caked hands and blinks hard. "What have I done?"

"What have  _we_  done," Lexa corrects.

Clarkes looks up to her face, helpless. "We killed them all, Lexa."

Lexa expression is sad and vulnerable. "We did what we had to do, Clarke."

"Did we really need to do it though?" Clarke demands, her eyes burning with tears. "All of those people, Lexa. Those were all lives that  _we_ were responsible for, and we just…" The words get stuck in her throat and she swallows hard. "Was it really necessary? Was it even worth it?"

"Clarke." Lexa's hands slide beneath hers to cradle her knuckles. "The Mountain Men were killing our people. They have been killing mine for one hundred years, and they were going to drain yours of their lifeblood in order to benefit themselves. They have been committing atrocities in these woods for a long time. They have hurt  _so_ many. We had to stop them."

Clarke shakes her head. "We're no better than them," she chokes out. "If what they've done makes them monsters, what does that make us?"

Lexa is silent for a long time. Finally, in a soft voice, she says, "We are leaders, Clarke. What we've done may make us worse than monsters, but we do it in order to protect our people. We bloody our hands so that they may live."

Dante's words come back to her. "I bear it so they don't have to."

Lexa's chin dips. "Yes."

Clarke looks up at her. Her eyes are closed. She looks so sad, so beaten down and tired. Clarke has made so many sacrifices for her people, but Lexa has been a leader far longer than she has. Clarke knows about Costia. She and Lexa sacrificed Tondc and killed Mount Weather together. But there is still so much about Lexa that Clarke does not know. How much more has she lost in order to protect her people?

Lexa may have done monstrous things, just as Clarke has. But this woman before her hurts for every life. Despite everything, Clarke knows that her heart is tender, no matter how she may try to pretend that it is not.

Without a word, Clarke reaches out to place her hand on Lexa's cheek. The Commander's eyes open, her lips parting in something akin to surprise.

"You don't have to do this alone, Lexa," Clarke reminds her softly. "Irradiating Mount Weather was my idea, and we pulled that lever together. Everything that happened in there happened because of decisions that we both made. All of this blood is on both of our hands. We caused all of those deaths together. We got our people back together. We'll move forward together, too."

"Clarke…" This time, Clarke knows she's isn't imaging it. Moisture wells up in Lexa's eyes. "I never meant for this to happen. I wanted to teach you how to be a strong leader so you would not need to suffer as I have. But you were already a strong leader. I only led you to make choices you should never have to."

Clarke shakes her head. "No, Lexa. You didn't lead me to do anything. They never would have stopped hurting our people, no matter how much we tried to convince them otherwise. Pulling that lever was my choice." She swallows hard as the realization hits her. "I would have done it alone if I had to."

Lexa reaches out to cradle Clarke's face in her hands. "But you didn't," she assures her. "You are not alone, Clarke."

Clarke closes her eyes and nods the slightest bit. "I know," she murmurs, leaning into Lexa's touch. "You're not alone, Lexa."

"I know."

Clarke opens her eyes again to see Lexa surveying her face. She has that look of vulnerability in her eyes again. Yet again, they are bearing their hearts to one another in a way they can do with no one else. Yet again, it is the two of them that suffer the consequences, and it is the two of them who are left to pick up the pieces.

Clarke reaches out and wraps her arms around the back of Lexa's neck. She gently draws her forward until their foreheads are touching. Lexa lets out a shaky breath and brings her other hand up to cradle Clarke's face. The brunette strokes the arches of her cheekbones with her thumbs and Clarke closes her eyes, focusing on the feeling of genuine human contact. She feels the motion of Lexa's eyelashes as she does the same.

For a long time, they simply remain like that, leaning into each other with Lexa perched on the edge of her throne and Clarke kneeling at her feet. Despite the difference in their level, they are entirely on even ground. Again, there is this space between them, perfectly balanced with their sorrows and regrets. It's as if a small, silent bubble has opened up around them, plunging the world into a peaceful respite for just a moment. They breathe one another in, feeling the steady rise and fall of each other's chests, a sign that their hearts are still there and beating despite all that they have done. Lexa's touch grounds Clarke, and likewise, Lexa seems to be clinging to Clarke's skin like a lifeline.

" _Heda. Indra kamp raun hir._ "

Clarke and Lexa jerk away from each other at the sound of the guard's voice outside the entrance of the tent. Lexa gets to her feet and straightens up, putting the mask and persona of the Commander back on like a suit of armor. She waits until Clarke has gathered her composure and the healer's kit before calling out, "Enter!"

Indra ducks into the tent, followed by Bellamy and then Lincoln. To Clarke's relief, they have both been tended to. Lincoln's shoulder is patched up yet again, the same as it was after the attack on Tondc. The strip of cloth Clarke had placed on Bellamy's arm has been replaced by a much sturdier, cleaner sling.

Bellamy takes a tentative step forward. "Clarke, are you…"

"I'm fine." Clarke gets to her feet and rotates her neck. Now that the urgency of moving the wounded prisoners has passed and she has had a small amount of time to process everything that happened, the physical effects of the siege on Mount Weather are beginning to set in. Her muscles are aching with fatigue and her wounded hand is throbbing. Clarke knows she should clean it soon. The risk of infection will increase over time, especially considering how much blood and grime she's covered in.

Still, Clarke needs to check on her people before anything else.

Bellamy must see her wince of pain, and his eyes stray down to her hand before coming back up to her face. "Clarke," he repeats. "You need to see a healer or-"

"I  _said_  I'm fine."

The words come out harsher than she intended, and Bellamy flinches back, a wounded look on his face. He works his jaw, taking a moment to gather himself, and Clarke expects him to press the issue further. Instead, he simply states, "I heard you found Echo."

Clarke blinks at him, surprised at the sudden change in subject. At her shoulder, Lexa answers, "Yes. She is in the war tent."

Bellamy nods and turns away, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. He steps around Indra and Lincoln and ducks out of the tent. Lincoln watches him go, then turns back to Clarke and Lexa.

"I'll take you to the Sky People," he says, and then he, too, abruptly exits the tent.

Clarke looks at Indra curiously. "What's going on?"

Indra has a strange expression on her face. "Winning a war comes with a cost. You have not walked far enough through camp yet."

Clarke's stomach sinks. Indra is right. She hasn't seen much of camp, and what little she did was blocked by the sight of the crowd that greeted their return party. The horror of this war lies inside the halls and harvest chamber of Mount Weather, but the costs of it sit in this camp. Judging by Bellamy and Lincoln's reactions, the situation here is no better than it was there.

Clarke swallows hard as a fresh wave of grief and dread pushes its way to the surface. She shoves it back down and locks it up once more. There is no time for this right now. Clarke needs to see her people.

Clarke glances over at Lexa to find the brunette's eyes are already on her. Their gazes meet, and for a split second, that same understanding passes between them once more. Clarke uses that single moment to gather her strength. She nods at the Commander, then at Indra, and walks out of the tent.

When Clarke steps outside, Lincoln is there waiting for her. He is looking towards the war tent, and though Clarke thinks she already knows the answers, she asks, "Where's Bellamy?"

Without looking away, Lincoln nods at the war tent. "He's in there. He wanted to see Echo. He seemed relieved to find that she was alive." He turns to Clarke. "Let's get you back to your people."

"You are my people," Clarke interjects automatically.

Lincoln looks at her, studying her face for a long time. Finally, he shakes his head and begins to move away. Clarke stops him with a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Lincoln," she says softly. "I'm glad you're safe."

Lincoln pauses for a long moment, facing away from her. Then, he turns back towards her, and his expression is incredibly sad and soft. When Clarke first encountered the Grounders, she was sure they were heartless savages. But over time, particularly between Lexa and Lincoln, she has learned that they are far from it. Though they maintain tough exteriors, they are just as human and hurting as she is.

"Thank you, Clarke," Lincoln says. He reaches up to place his hand atop Clarke's. "You've saved my life once again. I'm glad you are safe as well."

Clarke accepts that with a nod. She withdraws her hand and gives him a fleeting smile. "Let's go see our people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eko kom Azgeda - Echo of the Ice Nation
> 
> "Em pleni!" - Enough!
> 
> "Mochof, Pen." - Thank you, Penn.
> 
> "Em laik heda!" - It's the Commander!
> 
> "Heya. Ai laik Toria kom Trikru. Chon yu bilaik?" - Hello. I'm Toria of the Woods Clan. Who are you?
> 
> "Heda. Indra kamp raun hir." - Commander. Indra is here.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa see to their people and their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's beginning to look like this one is going to be a full-blown story. I don't mind, and I try to let these things take me where they will.
> 
> Inspiration for this chapter was "Look On Down From the Bridge" by Mazzy Star: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwVXkM_YxMg

_Gon Kru Oso Noumou Gada_

(For Those We've Lost)

Part IV

Their walk through camp only takes a few minutes, but to Clarke, it seems like an eternity. She's made this walk before, when Lexa first gave her a general tour, right after the attack on Tondc. But the energy is much different this time. Rather than the expectant tension of preparing for battle, there is now an air of weariness and quiet triumph. Beneath that, Clarke can feel the grief hanging imperceptibly in the air.

As Clarke and Lincoln weave between tents and small fires, they pass warrior undressing from their furs and armor. Weapons have been laid down and wounds are being dressed. Here and there are small gatherings of warriors surrounding a tent, where a healer bends over a wounded prisoner. In other spots, a prisoner sits, bandaged up and fully clothes and eyes shining while they converse with another Grounder.

What seems to make the trip so long, though, is the scrutiny. Clarke can feel hundreds of eyes on her and Lincoln as they walk. Groups of warriors stop their conversation to turn and look at them. Freed prisoners nudge one another and nod towards them. Healers halt their work and lift their head just to catch a glimpse of them. Whispers jump back and forth between the Grounders, and Clarke is acutely aware that she is  _still_  covered in blood.

She always will be. Clarke just wishes it wasn't so visible to everyone else.

"Right over here."

Lincoln's voice pulls Clarke from her thoughts. They have reached the edge of the Grounder camp. Separated from it by just a few hundred feet is the Sky People's camp. Despite its people being Clarke's, she rarely spent time here in the days preceding the attack on Mount Weather. The vast majority of her time was spent in the war tent and the Commander's tent, planning and re-planning. Thus, the camp is unfamiliar to her. But as soon as she glimpses the familiar faces of her people, relief fills Clarke. Without her thinking about it, her feet carry her faster, until Lincoln is all but jogging to keep up.

The first ones Clarke sees are the 48 – or at least, some of them. A dozen of them sit huddled in a circle around a small campfire with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. The first one to spot her is Miller, sitting on the opposite side of the fire. He lifts his head, and when his gaze lands on Clarke, his eyes widen. He shoots to his feet and strides across the circle towards her.

"Miller," Clarke says as he approaches her. "I just got into camp. Where are-"

Before Clarke can finish, Miller wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a tight hug. Clarke freezes, shocked out of her anguish for just a moment. Then, slowly, she returns the embrace, another complicated swell of emotion rising up in her chest. Here is Miller, one of the 48 delinquents which she fought so hard to save. Here he is, warm and alive and breathing.

He's safe. Finally, Clarke's people are safe.  _For now._

Miller draws away, expression grateful. "You're safe," he breathes out in relief. "We were worried. You were gone so long… we thought something had happened to you."

Clarke blinks at him. "I was helping with the evacuation of the Grounder prisoners from Mount Weather."

Miller nods and opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off when another delinquent hurries forward and knocks him in the shoulder. Peter – Clarke thinks that's his name – demands, "What the hell happened in there, Clarke?"

As the rest of the delinquents from around the fire gather around her, Clarke contemplates how to answer that. What does she say? How does she explain that she has sacrificed hundreds upon hundreds of lives for these four dozen kids? She looks around at their faces, full of relief but still so sad and scared and tired. Clarke knows that they are sad for what they lost in that Mountain – the friends and innocence they've lost since they landed on the ground. She knows they are tired of fighting for survival, and they are scared of what the cost of it was.

Clarke cannot possibly confirm their fears. She cannot bear to thrust this burden upon them so bluntly. They will learn the whole story eventually, but for now, they need to heal. Clarke can do this for them, at least.

"The Mountain Men were trying to kill us," Clarke says simply. "The Commander and I stopped them."

"So it's true?" one of the delinquents pipes up. "You're working with the Grounders?"

"They're our allies now," Clarke confirms.

"They killed our friends!" one of them protests.

"And we killed theirs."

Clarke's words seem to silence any more dissent, replaced instead by a circle of somber faces. They all learned how to survive some time ago, but it seems that whatever happened inside Mount Weather has taught the 48 what Clarke already knew: there are no good guys.

Clarke gives that a moment to sink in. Then, "Where is everyone else?"

"Most of them are in there." Miller nods towards the large tent set up a few dozen yards away from the fire. It's surrounded by several smaller tents, but Clarke knows that right now, the vast majority of her people will be gathered together.

"Thank you, Miller." Clarke pauses to look around the circle of teens one more time. They watch her expectantly, the rigidity of fight-or-flight set into their expressions, and Clarke swallows hard.

"It's okay," she tells them. "You're safe now. You can rest."

And just like that, the tension seems to drain from their bones. All around Clarke, there is a collective sigh of relief. Shoulders slump, and hard eyes and faces melt into weariness. Sniffles arise around her, and suddenly, the dam breaks. They are crying, tears streaming down their faces as they embrace and lean into one another.

Clarke dismisses herself then. She quietly steps out of the circle of delinquents and makes her way towards the large tent that Miller pointed out. The teen in question falls into step beside her. He looks incredibly tired, but unlike the others, he sheds no tears. Instead, he gives her a brief smile and a hand on the shoulder.

"I know what you did wasn't easy, Clarke," he says. "I won't forget what you've done for us. You saved my life, and my dad's."

That jolts Clarke to attention. "Your dad," she says. "He's okay?"

Miller nods. "He got hurt when the second bomb went off, but he's okay. He's alive."

Clarke feels a wave of relief at that, but she only nods her understanding. She takes a deep, steadying breath before ducking through the entrance of the large tent.

The atmosphere inside the tent is much different from that of the Grounder camp outside. Rather than bustling with activity, here there is only quiet. There is still that air of grief mixed with relief and victory, but it is much more tenuous than outside. There are murmurs of conversations and some sniffling. Some of Clarke's people rustle around for wound kits and food, but this seems to be a memorial rather than a celebration.

Nobody notices when Clarke steps through the entrance of the tent. Their attention is focused on one another, in quiet reunions and consolations. Clarke scans the tent and sees some of her people resting, other injured, but there are no bodies, and a cool relief fills her chest. It takes her a moment longer to find who she's looking for, but she immediately starts towards them once she does. As she weaves between the cots, the others in the tent begin to notice her. Again, Clarke feels dozens of pairs of eyes follow her until she reaches her destination.

"Mom?"

Clarke's mother tiredly lifts her head. The moment she sees Clarke, her eyes widen. She starts to sit up, but Clarke and Kane both push her back down together.

"It's okay," Clarke says hurriedly. "I'm okay."

Abby relaxes but reaches out a hand towards her. Clarke grasps it in her own and sits in the edge of the cot.

"You're covered in blood," Clarke's mother says.

"I'm fine," Clarke replies. "It's not mine."

Kane surveys her carefully. "Bellamy told us about what happened in the harvest chamber. You were in there helping them get people out. Is all of that blood…?"

"It's not mine," Clarke repeats grimly.

Kane slumps back in his chair with a grimace.

Clarke tears her attention away from him and looks down at her mother's shin, where the Mountain Men drilled into her bone. The wound has been wrapped in gaudy bandages, clearly of Grounder doing. Another glance around the tent reveals more such dressings, but there is not a Grounder in site.

Abby must see Clarke's confusion. "We got here before any of the injured from the harvest chamber did," she explains. "So the Grounder medics treated us as we came into camp. But some of us will need more medical attention when we get back to Camp Jaha." She looks around the tent at the injured and winces in pain at the movement.

"I'll tell Jackson what to expect and send someone ahead to Camp Jaha," Clarke reassures her. "Don't worry about it. You need to rest."

Clarke's mother relaxes the slightest bit but looks at her carefully. "You should rest too.

"I'm fine."

Abby and Kane exchange a glance, and then both look back at Clarke. Their expressions are almost pitying. Clarke can see Mount Weather's mess hall reflected in their eyes. They had to see it on their way out, too. They know what happened.

"Clarke-" Kane starts.

Clarke gets to her feet, leaving a bloody hand print on the edge of her mother's cot. She searches the faces of her people intently, ignoring the look that passes between Abby and Kane. "Where's the rest of the 48?"

"Over there." Abby nods towards the far corner of the tent. "But Clarke-"

"Thank you." Clarke leans down and kisses her mother on the forehead, tasting sweat and salt and blood. "I'll be back in a while." With that, she starts towards the corner she indicated. Again, Clarke feels the eyes of those in the tent follow her until she reaches the rest of the 48, and their eyes are already on Clarke when she stops in front of them. A quiet voice from one of the delinquents – Megan – says, "Hi, Clarke."

"Hey." She looks them over. Miller is already with them. They sit in a semicircle in the corner, all of their backs to the walls of the tent. They, too, are wrapped in blankets. There are wounds and bandages here and there among them, but nothing that Clarke is worried will pose a serious risk.

"You guys are okay," Clarke states uselessly.

There is a series of exchanged glances and shrugs. Clarke can't say she blames them. They have been through their own hell. Unfortunately, that's one thing she couldn't save them from.

"So we got out," one of them croaks. "What happens now?"

That question catches Clarke off guard. Everything she has been asked and accused of up until this point has been about what has already happened, and this is where her mind has been since stepping out of the reaper tunnels. Clarke hasn't even begun to consider what  _will_  happen.

"We're going to continue treating the injured and get everyone home," Clarke says, even though she's not entirely sure this is what will happen. "We're all safe right now, but once everyone is back on their feet, we'll move forward however we need to. Together."

It's not much, but it seems to be enough for them. There are nods and murmured assent. Despite the fact that the war with Mount Weather was fought to save them, Clarke finds that now that they have been freed, the burden of keeping the 48 safe is lesser than that of the rest of the Sky People. Perhaps it is because she landed with them and grew hardened with them. Perhaps it is because she learned to survive with them. Or perhaps it is because they have always been her people, even when the rest of the Ark continued to orbit in the sky above their heads. Regardless, Clarke feels warmth at knowing they are safe.

"What are we going to do with Fox and the others?" one of the 48 asks.

Clarke looks at the boy in confusion. "What do you mean?"

There is a sharp silence. The 48 look at each other with sad eyes. After a long moment with no answer, Miller quietly explains, "The Mountain Men got to some of us before you did, Clarke."

Clarke's stomach sinks. Of course, she knew the possibility that the Mountain Men hadn't already begun harvesting bone marrow long before the attack was slim to none, and she had seen them carrying a dead body from the dorms. Still, the idea of any of the delinquents being sucked dry makes her sick to her stomach, and from what little she had seen inside of the Mountain, the experience could have only been a slow, agonizing death.

Clarke swallows hard. "I don't know yet," she responds truthfully. "I think that should be up to you guys."

The delinquents seem to be surprised at that. But Clarke isn't one of the Arkers who just came down. She's been here with them since the beginning, and she knows their experiences have aged them all beyond their years. These were their friends. If anyone deserves to make the decision, it is them.

"Not that you gave us a choice with anything else."

The voice comes from far back in the corner, behind most of the other 48. It takes a moment, but once Clarke spots Jasper, her heart sinks. His eyes are dead and his expression is numb. She hasn't seen him since the mess hall, but he looks the way she feels, and though she isn't surprised, she had hoped they wouldn't have to face each other again so soon.

"Hey, Jasper," Miller says. "Don't be like that. She saved our lives."

Jasper barks out a bitter laugh. "Are you kidding me? You saw what happened in there. All those people?  _She_  did that. Her and Monty and the Grounder Commander."

The eyes of the 48 turn from Jasper to Clarke. Unlike him, their expressions are not accusing, simply curious. "Is it true, Clarke?" Bree asks. "What happened to those people… you did that?"

There is a moment of silence as Clarke considers how to answer that, her and Jasper's gazes locked the entire time. Finally, she simply says, "Yes. I did."

There is a collective release of breath from all of the delinquents. They don't seem to know how to respond to that, simply look from her to Jasper to each other and back again.

Jasper stands. "See? There were three hundred people in there. Yeah, most of them tried to kill us, but some of them gave their lives to help us. There were kids in there. Maya-" His voice cracks and he stops. Then, "Some of them deserved it. But most of them didn't." He looks right at Clarke. "You didn't give them a choice either. You choose who get to live and who gets to die, right?"

Clarke feels so, so incredibly tired. "Jasper…"

Jasper steps out of the semicircle, shaking his head. His eyes are filled with tears. "Don't, Clarke. There's nothing you can say that will make up for what you've done." He stalks past Clarke, shoving something into her chest on his way by – his old goggles. "Give these to Monty when you see him. Tell him they're his now."

Clarke watches him trudge away and out of the tent. When she turns back to look at the rest of the 48, their wide eyes are on her. None of them seem sure how to react. Miller is the first to snap out of it. He stands and puts a hand on Clarke's shoulder, but draws back when she flinches at the contact.

"Jasper's just grieving." He motions to the rest of the 48. "We all are. But my dad told me about everything that happened outside while we were in Mount Weather. You've done everything you can to protect us. I don't know if what you did was the right thing. But I know that you did it for us. I trust you with my life, Clarke. You haven't proved me wrong yet."

Clarke looks at him, eyes burning. She knows she needs to leave before anyone sees the tears welling up in her eyes. Miller says he trusts her, and though Clarke isn't sure that's the best decision on his part, the feeling is mutual. He has always been one of the most level-headed members of the 100, something that continues to shine through in times of crisis. From what she's seen so far, Clarke is confident that Mount Weather didn't change that.

"Tell them what happened outside, too," Clarke tells him, motioning to the 48. "They need to know that we're allies with the Grounders now, and they need to know the situation with the rest of the Ark. You're smart, Miller, and strong. Can I trust you to take care of them while I figure out what our next steps are?"

Miller nods. "Yeah, of course, Clarke, but-"

"Thank you." Clarke tries to convey in those two words how appreciative she is of him. She wraps him in a quick hug before drawing away. "I'll tell you as soon as I know more." Before Miller can say anything else, she focuses her attention back on the rest of the delinquents. "I'm leaving Miller in charge with you guys, so if you have any questions, ask him. I need to talk to the Commander to figure out what help we'll have getting everyone back. I know things are hard right now, but we'll get through it together."

"Hey, come on, princess," Bree quips. "You call this hard? You're getting soft."

There is a quiet chuckle around the semicircle, and amazingly, Clarke feels a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. In all of the pain and struggle of the past few weeks, she had almost forgotten the reason she cares for these teens so much.

"You guys are safe now," she tells the delinquents, just as she had the group outside of the tent. "But stay out of trouble. The Grounders aren't very tolerant with practical jokes."

"You got it princess."

With a small smile, Clarke turns away from them and starts towards the tent's exit, intent on heading out to figure out her next course of action now that she's confirmed the safety of her people. About halfway through the tent, she is stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Clarke whirls around.

"Sorry," Miller apologizes, putting his hands up sheepishly. "I was just wondering if you'd seen Monroe."

Clarke frowns and looks around the tent. Monroe had been with David working on the bombs at the main entrance. If she was anywhere, it would be here.

"I know," Miller says as her eyes scan the wounded and the delinquents still gathered in the corner. "But I'm worried about her. No one has seen her since-"

"Clarke?"

The voice comes from her right. Clarke looks over and spots Raven a few rows down. She looks terrible. Her thigh is wrapped in bandages and one side of her face is swelling with several nasty bruises. Sitting at her side is Wick. He too is peppered with bruises, but he was lucky enough not to be a victim of Mount Weather's harvest.

"Raven." Another rush of relief fills Clarke. She sends an apologetic look at Miller. "I'll look for Monroe later, I promise. I'll let you know." Without waiting for an answer, she starts towards Raven. "You're okay."

"You're okay," Raven retorts. "I was worried something happened to you."

"I'm…okay." It's not true, but she's alive. Close enough. "What happened to you guys? How did you end up inside Mount Weather."

Raven and Wick exchange a look. "The Mountain Men found us just as we were about to set the bombs off," Wick explains. "We managed to take a few of them out with the explosion, but they got us anyways."

"I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner," Clarke says, glancing down at Raven's bandaged leg. The girl has been through so much already.

"It's a miracle you got to us at all," Raven proclaims. "But you did it, Clarke. You got us out."

Clarke pauses. "It wouldn't have been possible without you two…"

"Hey." Raven wraps her fingers around Clarke's wrist. "You saved me, Clarke. You saved all of us."

"Yeah." Clarke swallows hard and pulls gently away. "I need to talk to the Commander about helping get everyone back to Camp Jaha." She looks at Wick. "Take care of her. Please." Then, to both of them. "I'll be back later."

Clarke turns away before either of them can answer her. It seems she's done it countless times in the past few mintes, but she can't bear the looks all of them are giving her. Still feeling several pairs of eyes on her, Clarke keeps her gaze glued to her feet. She doesn't dare look up until she's left the tent.

When she emerges from the tent, Lincoln is gone and the delinquents who were gathered outside earlier have ducked inside to be with the rest of the Sky People. There is only a single person out here, sitting on a tree stump several feet away from the tent. He is hunched over with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup in his hands. Clarke releases a breath and makes her way over to him.

"Hi," she says.

Monty looks up from his feet. His eyes are red and puffy. "Hey."

Clarke stops in front of him. "What are you doing out here?"

"I didn't want to be in there," he replies, nodding at the tent. "I can't–" His voice catches and he clears his throat. "I can't be in there with them. I can't look at their faces. I just…" He shakes his head.

"I know," Clarke says softly. "I couldn't stay in there either."

Monty lets out a sigh but doesn't answer. Clarke lowers herself onto the ground beside the tree stump. For a long moment, the two of them simply sit in silence, watching as the bustling activity on the edges of the Grounder camp finally begins to slow.

"How long have you been out here?" Clarke asks.

Monty shrugs. "Since we left the Mountain. It was still dark."

Clarke nods. Silence again fills the air around them. Clarke now shares a bitter connection with Monty. Without him, she and Lexa would have never been able to pull that lever. He is just as much at fault for what happened in Mount Weather as the two girls, and Clarke knows this is a boy with a heart of gold. She isn't sure what she can say to him, but she has a feeling there isn't much she can say, or even if there is a need to say anything at all. Clarke, more than anyone else, knows what he is feeling.

"Clarke." Monty's voice is shaking. "What happens now?" He is not talking about the Sky People or the Grounders or anything in between. He's talking about the two of them, sitting here in the sunlight mere hours after committing genocide.

"I don't know."

Monty pauses. Then, "I saw Jasper. He…"

"Yeah," Clarke says, so he won't have to continue. "Me too." She suddenly remembers the goggles Jasper shoved into her chest. She pulls them out from inside her jacket and holds them out to Monty. "He said to give these to you."

Monty looks sick to his stomach. His hands shake violently as he sets his empty cup down and reaches for the goggles. Clarke suddenly pulls away before he can touch them.

Monty stares at her. "What..?"

"I'm sorry," Clarke tells him, tucking the goggles back inside her jacket. "But not right now. You don't need this right now."

"But Clarke-"

"Monty." Clarke puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to them."

"Later?" Monty beseeches.

"Later." Clarke assures him.

There is a short moment in which they stare at each other before Monty abruptly looks away. He stares out at the Grounder camp, lips pursed, refusing to utter a word. As Clarke watches, horror slowly glosses over his eyes. Clarke knows he is not seeing the camp out here, but the mess hall inside Mount Weather

"Monty?" she says.

Tears begin to streak down Monty's face and his body becomes wracked with sobs. He buries his face in his hands and curls in on himself as if to escape the pain. His grief is tremendous but his sobs are quiet, and Clarke feels her heart break yet again for yet another person.

Clarke shuffles around to sit on her haunches in front of Monty. Without a word, she draws him down in to her shoulder. He lets her, burying his face into her neck. She tightens the blanket around his shoulders and then wraps her arms around him, pressing her lips to the top of his head. For a long time they stay like that, with Clarke holding Monty as he falls apart. As he sobs into her shoulder, Clarke vows to protect him in any way she can. Without him, she would have never been able to save their people, and he paid the price for it just as much and she and Lexa did. Jasper will not forgive them for what they did to Maya, and Clarke refuses to let him be alone in this.

"What did I do, Clarke?" Monty sobs. "What did I  _do_?"

"You made it possible to do," Clarke tells him. "But you didn't do it, Monty. It wasn't you who pulled the lever."

"It might as well have been!"

"No," Clarke counters. "You did it because Lexa and I asked you to, Monty. Because you had to."

"We had to save them." Even as he says it, Monty doesn't seem to believe his own words.

"And we did," Clarke assures him. "Together."

Monty doesn't answer for several moments. Finally, he pulls back with a sniffle. "Do you think it was worth it?"

Clarke considers that before answering truthfully, "I don't know. But for them?" She motions to the Sky People's tent. "Yes."

"I don't know how I'm going to live with myself, Clarke," he croaks.

"You will," Clarke promises him, gathering his hands in her own. "I know you will. You're strong, Monty, and kind, even if you don't feel that way right now. And you aren't alone." Monty looks up at her, a desperate hope shining in his eyes. "I'm here, Monty, and I'm not going anywhere. I was in that control room with you. Lexa and I are the ones who pulled that lever. You are  _not_ alone."

Monty swallows hard and nods shakily. "The Commander," he says, and Clarke blinks at him. "She pulled the lever too. Is she-"

"Monty?"

Clarke looks over to see Harper. She approaches them slowly and carefully, as if afraid of interrupting. The moment he sees her, Monty's expression lights up, if only just. He stands and walks quickly to Harper, and the two of them wrap one another in a hug. They stand like that, just holding one another, and Clarke decides it's time to excuse herself. She straightens up, wincing at the way her knees groan in pain. She hasn't had a moment's rest since they marched on the Mountain, and it's beginning to take its toll on her body. She rotates her shoulders and neck before turning to make her way back towards the Grounder camp.

A hand on her shoulder stops her. Clarke flinches and whirls around, only to have Monty engulf her in a hug. She stiffens, not expecting the contact, but then, she relaxes and returns the gesture.

"We're going to get through this, Monty," Clarke tells him. "Together."

Monty nods against her shoulder. "Thank you, Clarke," he murmurs into her ear. When he draws back, his eyes are watery. "What are you going to do now?"

Clarke sighs. "I'm going to talk to the Commander. We need to get everyone back to Camp Jaha. It will be better if we have help."

Monty nods. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

Clarke smiles gently at him. "You've done enough, Monty. Rest."

Monty returns her smile fleetingly before turning back towards Harper. The other girl gives Clarke a quick hug as well. Then, she draws away and smiles at Clarke. "Thank you, Clarke," she says sincerely, before putting her arms around Monty and leading him away to the Sky People's tent.

Clarke turns back towards the Grounder camp once again. She scans the tents on the edges of the camp until she finds a small area absent of any people. Stalking in that direction, she considers how she told everyone she'd be with the Commander. It's not really a lie. Clarke tells herself this as she reaches the area empty of Grounders. She does need to talk to Lexa, and she fully intends to later as her next order of business. But first…

She grabs a small bottle of alcohol and a wet rag from a nearby table and scans the ground for a healer' kit. Finding one, she snatches it up and stuffs the bottle and rag inside. With the kit bundled in her arms, Clarke sets out for the edge of the woods. She walks into the trees, just far enough away from the camp that no one will be able to find her unless they are looking, but just close enough that a scream or gunshot will be heard.

Once she's far enough back, Clarke finds a large tree to put her back against and sits nestled between the roots. She lays the contents of the healer's kit before her. To Clarke's relief, a crude set of tweezers tumbles out, along with a roll of bandages and various herbs.

"Okay," Clarke breathes to herself, then gets busy. She places the bandages at her hip and lays the wet rag on her thigh. She sets up the tweezers at her feet and uncorks the bottle of alcohol. Then, she tears yet another strip off of her shirt and folds it several times, laying it on her leg beside the rag.

Next, Clarke peels away the dirty cloth wrapped around her left hand and shucks off her gloves. Though she is covered head-to-toe in blood, her gloves have kept her hands largely clean, though the blood has seeped through in some spots. Thus, it is easy to see the damage.

The wound in her hand is nowhere near as bad as it could've been. It seems that only fragments were what hit Clarke, the vast majority of which found their way into the meat on the outside edge of her palm. It hurts like hell, and there will be damage in the nerves and possibly the muscles, but the bullet fragments didn't hit bone. Aside from maybe her pinky, her left hand will remain largely functional.

Clarke lets out a small sigh of relief before focusing on the task at hand. She rolls the fabric from her shirt in between the fingers of her good hand and shoves it into her mouth, biting down hard. Then, she uncaps the bottle of alcohol and douses the rag and tweezers before balancing the bottle on her knee. Taking several deep breaths to steady herself, Clarke counts to three in her head and pours.

As soon as the alcohol hits the wound, pain explodes in Clarke's left hand and lances up her arm. She lets out a ragged yell, the sound of it muffled by the cloth in her mouth. Tears spring to her eyes. Clarke's vision blurs a little around the edges, but she forces herself to empty the bottle over her wound. The second she's finished, she flings the empty bottle aside and drops her head back against the bark of the tree. She pulls the cloth from her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. For a time, all she does is sit there with her eyes closed, breathing hard.

"Clarke?"

Clarke's eyes shoot open. She hadn't even heard anyone approaching, but it makes sense once she sees Lexa standing in front of her. The Commander's expression is unreadable as she approaches.

"Lexa," Clarke breathes. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you." Lexa kneels in front of her. Taking Clarke's injured hand in her own, she surveys the damage before looking up at her. "You should be getting this looked at by a healer."

Clarke shakes her head. "I can look after myself. There a lot of other people who need more help than me."

Lexa releases a breath. "Not anymore." When Clarke stares at her, she explains, "The healers have already seen to most of the wounded. Those left to be seen are not hurt badly. There are some still fighting for their lives, but our healers have done all they can for them. It is up to them now."

Clarke isn't sure whether to feel saddened or relieved by this news. Still, she's nothing if not stubborn, and even if she were to be seen by a healer…

Lexa seems to know where Clarke's thoughts are, because she simply sighs and shakes her head. "You are not weak, Clarke," she says. "A wound is not going to convince me otherwise."

Clarke swallows hard. "Lexa-"

"Let me help you, Clarke." The brunette's expression is imploring and sincere. "Please."

Clarke stares at her. After a long moment, she nods. "Okay."

A grateful smile flits across Lexa's face. She rearranges herself and the tools on the ground until she is kneeling comfortably at Clarke's feet. She gently pulls the soaked rag from Clarke's good hand and begins to clean the wound. Clarke peers over her head as she works and sees several Grounders with their backs to them, surveying the edges of the tree line and the two camps laid out just a few hundred feet away.

"They're with me," Lexa explains without looking up. "Two of them will accompany us. I am leaving the rest of them to guard the Sky People and help them should they need it."

Clarke blinks down at her, another wave of gratefulness rising up within her. "Thank you, Lexa."

Lexa simply nods. "The Mountain is defeated, and we are free from them, but that does not mean this alliance must end here. There is still much to do, and I believe that the possible benefits of continuing this alliance will far outweigh any past transgressions." She finishes with the rag and sets it aside. When she looks up, her eyes are open and earnest. "I want our people to have peace together, Clarke."

For a long moment, Clarke can't seem to answer. Whether it's out of surprise or utter relief, she isn't sure. Finally, she manages, "Me too."

Lexa nods and dips her head to focus back on the task at hand. She balances the tweezers in between her fingers, but pauses before diving in. "This is going to hurt, Clarke," she warns.

Clarke groans. "Just get it over with."

Amazingly, a smile touches the corner of Lexa's mouth. She gives Clarke a moment to steady herself before she begins to prod the wound for the bullet fragments. Clarke grits her teeth and digs her fingers in the roots at her side, trying not to curse.

"It's okay," Lexa says, seeming to know where her mind is at. "I am no stranger to foul language. You can say whatever you'd like."

"I'm not sure you'd understand what I have to say anyways," Clarke grunts.

Lexa purses her lips. " _Skrish_ ," she says.

Clarke furrows her brow. "What does that mean?"

"Shit."

Clarke lets out a startled laugh and the corner of Lexa's mouth quirks up. The last thing she expected today was to be taught  _Trigedasleng_ curse words by the Commander of the Grounders as she picks bullet fragments from her hand. Yet, here they are.

Clarke can't resist as a sharp pain shoots through her hand. " _Skrish!_ "

Lexa laughs quietly, and the sound of it nearly makes Clarke jump out of her skin. She has  _never_  heard anything even remotely similar to a laugh come from the Commander. She didn't even know if laughing was something Lexa even knew  _how_ to do. But as she watches the other girl quiet the sound into a smile that she feels on her own face, she wonders if they had simply forgotten what it was like.

"Done." Lexa tosses the tweezers aside and Clarke blinks in surprise. Either there were less bullet fragments than she originally thought, or Lexa is very good at distracting her. Perhaps both. Lexa finds the roll of bandages next and gets to work on wrapping Clarke's hand.

"Listen, Clarke," she says, and Clarke sobers at the tone of her voice. "The Mountain is no more. The war is over, but there is still much to be done. We cannot rest yet." She glances furtively up at Clarke. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Clarke replies immediately. She sighs heavily. "I know. We need to figure out what's going to happen next, both with our people and the alliance."

Lexa nods her agreement. "And we will." She pulls the bandage tight and tucks it in. She stands and helps Clarke to her feet as well. "As I said before, I fully intend to keep this alliance. Planning or our next steps will be essential in that regard." She begins to turn away.

"Lexa." Clarke catches her hand. "Thank you."

Lexa looks at her, expression soft. "I was simply returning the favor, Clarke." She brushes her free hand over the cut above her brow. Clarke gives her a small smile and drops her hand. Together, they begin to make their way through the trees back towards the two camps.

"So do we have to include your generals in our "next steps" too?" Clarke asks flatly.

Lexa shakes her head, looking amused. "Fortunately, no. Outside of battle, planning ahead is not their strong suit. However…" Clarke looks over at her. "Those village leaders who are present will be privy to our plans. I'm sure news will begin to spread quickly, but the entirety of the Coalition needs to know of our intention to keep this alliance."

Clarke sighs. "I should have some of my people there as well," she admits reluctantly.

Lexa hums in agreement "Having both of our people there immediately following the battle will help facilitate camaraderie." She looks at Clarke. "Who will it be?"

Clarke cocks her head, thinking. "Miller," she says almost immediately. "Kane. Jackson, since my mother is hurt. Bellamy, if he's willing, and Monroe, if I can find her. Lincoln and Octavia should be there too."

"They will be an important link between our people in the coming weeks," Lexa approves, nodding. "Very well, I will send my men to fetch them and bring them to the war tent."

"It's fine," Clarke tells her. "I'll get them myself. They would probably feel better if-"

"We have something else to attend to," Lexa cuts her off. Clarke looks over at the sudden change in her tone, and the expression on the brunette's face makes her stomach drop.

"What is it?"

Lexa refuses to look at her. "My men have finished gathering the dead."

* * *

If Clarke thought the walk with Lincoln was bad, the walk with Lexa is outright torturous. Every step seems to weigh her down. It's as if she can feels the costs of this war being draped over her shoulders. The only thing that keeps her going is Lexa at her side. As they walk through the Grounder camp and the hundreds of eyes follow their steps, the Commander keeps her head held high and her gaze trained straight ahead. Clarke vows not to let her chin drop, but unlike Lexa, she lets her eyes stray. She cannot count the number of gazes she catches, the number of Grounders who refuse to make eye contact with her.

Clarke doesn't bother asking. She's not sure she could bear to know right now.

They walk until they reach the western edge of the Grounder camp, where a tiny ridge and a line of trees used to keep out the prying eye of Mount Weather. Now, Clarke knows something much worse lies in the plateau on the other side.

Lexa turns to their two bodyguards. " _Mochof_ ," she tells one of them. "Gather the village and other Coalition leaders that are currently here in the camp. Tell them to go to the war tent as soon as their wounded are cared for. Clarke and I will be there shortly."

The Grounder nods, murmuring " _heda_ " before turning and disappearing back into the Grounder camp. Lexa turns to Clarke. "It's time," she says.

Clarke swallows hard. "Okay."

Lexa leads them through the cusp of trees and down the small ridge. It takes only a few more steps until they are out of the tree line, and each one only seems to weigh Clarke down even more. When they emerge from the trees and the plateau comes into view, Clarke feels everything coming crashing down yet again.

Bodies are spread out across the plateau. There are more than Clarke can count, but she knows it can be no less than two hundred. Many of them are covered in blood-soaked pelts, but others are not. Among them, Clarke can see the emaciated corpses of the prisoners from Mount Weather. Others are clad in the telltale fur and armor of warriors, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. There are a few shapes underneath pelts that Clarke can hardly recognize as human, and she knows these are the ones that were killed by the first blast at the door of the Mountain. Grounders pace back and forth down the rows of corpses, waving off flies and crows, and there is hardly enough space for them to place their feet. It is a field of the dead, and yet again, Clarke feels every one of them creeping up to weigh on her back.

It takes several long moments for Clarke to find her voice. "Is this all of them?" she croaks.

"For now," Lexa answers softly. "There will be others, but the healers are doing all that they can for them. It is up to them to fight for their lives now. Some of them will not make it, but none of your people are among those who are still in danger of losing their lives."

Clarke scans the layer of dead bodies. "Where…?"

"Your people are over here."

Lexa leads Clarke over to one corner of the field, where about two dozen bodies have been separated from the rest. Clarke can tell without looking beneath the pelts that they are Sky People. She sees someone kneeling next to one of the bodies and squints, trying to figure out who it is. Once she does, she immediately whirls to face their remaining Grounder bodyguard.

"Go get one the Sky People, one of the younger ones," she tells him, leaving no room for argument in her voice. "Bring them here. Tell them I found Monroe."

The Grounder doesn't even hesitate, simply nods and sets off. As soon as Clarke is sure he is headed in the right direction, she turns and hurries towards the form crouched by the corpses of the Sky People.

"Monroe?" she calls.

Monroe looks up. Her face is bloody and bruised, and her eyes are red and puffy. Tear tracks cut through the dirt and grime on her face. "C- Clarke?" her voice cracks. She is bent over one of the bodies, almost as if trying to protect it, and she herself is sobbing uncontrollably.

Clarke reels. She has never seen Monroe like this. The girl has always been one of the stronger and more stubborn members of the 100. Ever since they landed, Clarke has seen nothing but innovation and fortitude from her. She helped them create the plan to get into Mount Weather. She has been by her and Bellamy's side every step of the way. If there was a task Clarke knew was important but simply didn't have the time for, she would delegate it to Monroe, fully confident in the redhead's abilities. Even in the worst of situations, Monroe had trekked forward with Clarke relentlessly, just as determined to rescue their people from Mount Weather.

What could possibly reduce her to this state?

But then Clarke kneels beside Monroe, and she suddenly understands everything. Monroe's current state, her dedication to freeing their people from Mount Weather. The absolute and utter fervor with which she had thrown herself into this war, almost on par with Clarke's. It all made sense now.

Fox lays there in front of them, Monroe cupping the wretched mess that was once her face in her hands. There are chunks of flesh missing, and Clarke can tell from the holes peppering her breastbone that she was a victim of Mount Weather's bone marrow harvest. But Clarke has also heard stories from Lexa and Lincoln and other Grounders about the reapers, and she doesn't even need to look beneath the pelt to know that Fox's left leg and arm are completely gone. This girl died a long, painful death, and even her dead body hadn't been spared.

"It was for her," Monroe chokes out. "It was for  _her_  and she's gone, Clarke. She's dead, Clarke. Oh God, she's  _dead_."

Monroe lets out a quiet wail. Gently, Clarke pries her hands away from Fox's mutilated face and covers it back up with the pelt, trying and failing to keep the image from being burned into her memory. Then, she wraps her arms around Monroe's shoulders. Body still wracked with sobs, Monroe slumps backwards, and Clarke follows her until they are both sitting on the ground. Clarke pulls Monroe close and the other girl falls into her.

"I can't do this without her, Clarke," Monroe sobs. "She was everything to me. I loved her, and I never got to tell her."

"I know, Monroe," Clarke responds softly.

"How do survive  _this_?" Monroe burrows further into Clarke. "How did you?"

Clarke swallows hard and looks over at Lexa, stationed several yards away to give them some semblance of privacy. She stands with her back straight and her head held high as she looks over the hundreds of her people whose lives have been lost in this war.

" _By recognizing it for what it is…weakness."_

Lexa must sense her scrutiny, because she turns her head towards them. Her expression is smooth and controlled, but when their gazes meet, Lexa softens. In moments, her eyes go from unreadable to incredibly tender and sad.

" _Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?"_

Clarke doesn't answer Monroe, just holds her tighter against her body. For a while, they just sit there in silence. Clarke doesn't know how long Monroe has been out here, collapsed into herself like this, but she guesses it has been since they left the Mountain. Still, she lets Monroe cry. She lets her cry until she's exhausted all of her tears, until the sobs ease away – not from a lack of grief but from a lack of energy. She lets her cry until she simply cannot cry anymore. She lets her cry the way Clarke was never able to for Finn. She's owes it to both her and Fox. By the time Monroe's grief has finally hushed, the Grounder bodyguard is back with Bree and Peter in tow, both holding a bundle of furs. When they see Monroe cradled in Clarke's arms, their eyes widen and they rush forward.

"Monroe!" Monroe blearily lifts her head. Clarke sees a small light enter her eyes when she spots the two delinquents.

"Bree, Pete," she croaks. "You guys are okay."

Bree kneels on the other side of Monroe. "Yeah, we are. You guys got us out. We're okay."

"Come on," Peter says. "The others are worried about you. Let's get you back to our camp."

Monroe gazes down at Fox's body for a long moment. More tears well up, but she nods without letting them escape. Clarke releases her and she bends down to kiss Fox's forehead through the pelt.

"I love you, Fox," she murmurs, before staggering to her feet. Peter throws a pelt over her and Bree tightens it around her shoulders, then the two of them fall into step on either side of her. They grip her elbows, supporting her as they limp away from this field of the dead.

A few yards away, Monroe stops and turns back towards Clarke. "Fox had a necklace that I gave to her," she rasps. "It's on a black cord. Can you…?"

Clarke nods. She waits until the three delinquents have turned away before peeling the pelt away from Fox's body. Once again seeing the ragged pieces that are all that remains of Fox makes grief and nausea rise up in Clarke's throat. Still, she looks carefully for what Monroe described. She finds it, all but encrusted to Fox's skin with blood. Clarke tugs it off, nearly retching at the way the blood flakes away. She is not a stranger to gore or death. This is nothing new to her. But this is one of her _friends_ , one of the delinquents she left in that Mountain to die.

Will this ever stop tearing at her?

Finally, Clarke is able to pry the necklace away from Fox's body. She throws the pelt back over her body and stands, wiping away some of the blood on her shirt. The necklace reminds her of the one Finn gave both her and Raven. It's a black leather cord strung with a small golden charm. It takes a moment for Clarke to recognize the charm as the head of a fox before she reaches the three delinquents.

"Here," Clarke murmurs, nudging Monroe. The redhead turns, and the moment her gaze lands on the necklace, she begins to cry. She takes it from Clarke almost reverently.

"She kept it," Monroe sobs.

"I think she knew, Monroe," Clarke says, and Monroe looks up at her face. "That you loved her."

Monroe bites her trembling lip and nods. She cradles the charm against her chest and turns away. Clarke nods at Bree and Peter and the two of them gather Monroe in their arms. Together, the three of them walk back up and over the ridge.

Clarke releases a shaky breath and looks down at her hands. They had been mostly clean after removing her gloves, but taking the necklace from Fox's body has dirtied them all over again. She's going to have to thoroughly disinfect her injured hand once she's finally finished handling bloody wounds and dead bodies.

Clarke sighs and turns. Lexa is standing a few yards away, gazing out over the field of dead bodies. Though her expression is stoic and her head held high, she is gripping the hilt of her sword so hard her knuckles have turned white. Clarke takes a deep breath and moves to step up next to her.

"Do you know how many?" Clarke asks.

"Almost as many as Tondc," Lexa answers, voice low. "Two hundred and forty three. Eighteen of them are Sky People."

Those words hit Clarke like a blow to the chest, and her gaze strays over to the section of bodies separated from the rest. Eighteen more of her people are dead. She knows that some of them died a long and painful death, just like Fox, because she couldn't get to them in time. The rest died following Clarke's orders, trusting that she knew the right steps to take.

But still… She looks over at Lexa. Only eighteen out of almost two hundred and fifty.

"Why did you do it Lexa?" Lexa looks at her inquisitively. "Why did you refuse the deal?"

Lexa looks quickly away. "Clarke…"

"They offered to let all of your people go," Clarke continues. "At the cost of mine, yes, but you could have avoided all of this. It would have saved hundreds of your people's lives. Aside from this alliance and compared to the cost of not taking the deal, there was no reason not to. But you didn't take the deal. Why not?"

"It wasn't because of you, Clarke."

The words are dark and angry and harsh. Clarke immediately opens her mouth to deny that this is about her, but then closes it, because that would be a lie. It is. Clarke does want to know the full story, wants to one day know the reasoning behind Lexa's decision. But she knows that right now she will get no explanation from Lexa about any of that. The Commander is stronger than any other person Clarke knows, but even she has her limits.

But in regards to herself? Clarke needed to know. And she got her answer.

Clarke nods. "Okay."

Lexa turns to look at her. Clarke expects to see resentment and wariness in her eyes, but there is none. Instead, there is only sadness and self-loathing. Clarke realizes that the anger was not aimed at her, but at Lexa herself.

"I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa grits out. "But you know that my people come first. Every choice I make is not my own. Every time I look into the future, it is for them. My life belongs to my people. It has always been this way and will always be this way. I cannot and will not change that. I am the Commander, and-"

"Lexa, stop." Clarke puts her hand over Lexa's knuckles where they grip the hilt of her sword. "I'm not mad at you. You don't need to explain it to me, I know why you do what you do. I know why it wouldn't be for me. I mean-" Her laugh is without humor. "I killed Finn for this."

Lexa's palm turns upwards so that Clarke's hand settles in her own. She turns her body so she is facing Clarke fully. "We are going to make this worth it, Clarke." She says it fiercely, and with such conviction that Clarke knows she means it. "We are going to make all of this worth it."

Clarke looks back and forth between her eyes for a moment, using the determination in them as an anchor. It pulls her back to the present, away from Finn and Tondc and the halls of Mount Weather.

"Together," Clarke says.

Lexa nods. "Together.

* * *

The next several hours are a blur of politics and physical labor to Clarke.

After viewing the dead, Clarke and Lexa return to the war tent, where some of the generals and village leaders are waiting. Upon seeing the generals, Clarke sends a scathing look at Lexa, who fights to keep the smile off her face. They spend nearly two hours hashing out the near future of the alliance, a task which would have come to the same conclusion and taken mere minutes had it been Clarke and Lexa alone. Still, Lexa insists afterwards that despite the drudgery of politics, it is important to consider all options.

"Even if some of those options are…"

"Bullshit?" Clarke offers, eliciting a muffled smile from the Commander.

Ultimately, it is decided that the alliance will go on, at least for the time being. Clarke is relieved to find that this is a sentiment nearly all of the village leaders share. The Grounders offer some of their forces to help transport the dead and injured back to Camp Jaha, where the Sky People can effectively care for them. In return, Clarke offers to take in some of the Grounders still fighting for their lives in hopes that the Ark's advanced medical technology will help. She also encourages the exchange of medical personnel and equipment with Jackson's approval. They establish the collaboration of both Arker and Grounder teams in hunting down any remaining reapers and taking them to Tondc to be treated. In addition, she vows to send what resources she can to assist in rebuilding the village. Reconstruction began immediately following the bombing, but there is still much work to be done, and Clarke knows sending help will be seen as a gesture of gratitude for the sacrifice.

Things don't really get sticky until they come to the matter of the Mountain. Many of the Grounders refuse to let anyone set foot inside Mount Weather, while most of the Sky People see it as an opportunity to reap the advantages of the Mountain Men's technology and use the space when the cold season comes around. The argument goes around in circles for nearly an hour before Clarke and Lexa are finally able to mediate a compromise. It is temporary, but it is enough for the moment. They are only able to do this with Clarke pointing out the one thing they can do together. Those Grounders which are willing to enter the Mount Weather will gather the dead and remove them from the Mountain. The Sky People will help build the pyres for burning the dead but are forbidden from entering until a more permanent plan can be made. They can only spare a few people for the task at the moment, due to the state of their own peoples, but Clarke knows it is going to take a long time to get all of the Mountain Men out of there. They might as well start now.

Clarke wanted a memorial for the people of Mount Weather, and she got it. The Mountain itself is a problem for another day.

After the council is dismissed, Lexa pulls Clarke aside.

"I would like the business about the Ice Nation to stay between us and Echo," she tells her. "It would be better that Nia does not catch wind of it until after I have started returning my people to their clans."

Clarke nods her affirmation but asks, "Can you at least explain the situation to me?"

Lexa puffs out a frustrated sigh, but Clarke knows it is not directed at her. "The Queen of the Ice Nation is not a kind ruler," she explains. "Her people are just as much victims of her tyranny as the rest of us. Though I'm sure many of her people are still obedient to her and her alone, there are some who are not so submissive. There are even more who are not outright rebellious, but would not pass up chance to leave her rule were they given the opportunity."

"Echo is one of those people," Clarke guesses.

"Yes." Lexa rolls her neck and shoulders. "At least now that she's realized the error of Nia's ways."

"She seems like someone used to being in charge," Clarke remarks.

"She is one of Nia's top generals," Lexa says. "Or she was, until she was captured by the Mountain."

"Do you trust her?"

"No," Lexa replies bluntly, without a moment of hesitation. "But if we tread carefully…"

"There's a chance to free Nia's people," Clarke finishes. "Your people."

"Yes."

Clarke nods. "Okay. So what's your plan?"

Lexa considers that. "I will do the same with the people from the Ice Nation as the rest of the clans. I intend to keep the freed prisoners with me for now. All of them. We will transport them to Polis before we help them back to their respective clans. Once we get to Polis, I will see how the situation develops."

"If we're going to keep this alliance going, we need to be willing to let our people move back and forth," Clarke says. "Camp Jaha is open to them if they need it. "

Lexa stares at her for a long moment before nodding gratefully. "Thank you, Clarke. Truly."

Clarke manages a small smile. She brushes her hand over Lexa's. "We're doing this together, Lexa. This will stay between us if that's what you want."

Lexa returns her smile and tangles their fingers together. "I'll send some of my people to help yours as soon as I can.

"Thank you, Lexa." She squeezes her fingers before letting go and exiting the tent.

Clarke returns to her people and explains the plan. As word of it spreads, the Sky People begin to stir like a bee hive awakening from a slumber. It is as if Clarke's people have emerged from a trance, and are eager to be moving again. Soon enough, the Grounders that have been assigned to help them return to Camp Jaha appear, and within hours, they are prepared to leave.

As her people begin to filter into the forest with the Grounders looking on, Clarke looks up at the sky. Sunset will be in a few hours. They will have just enough time to get back to Camp Jaha before dark.

"Clarke."

Clarke turns to see Lexa approaching. She has slipped back into the role of the Commander, regal and strong. She stops a few feet away from Clarke. "You and your people are leaving now?" There is no disappointed tone in her voice, as Clarke knows there would be if it weren't for the bystanders.

"Yes," Clarke responds simply.

Lexa nods. "Send a rider should you need any assistance. We will do the same."

Clarke glances back at her people. Octavia and Lincoln stand on the edges of the tree line, ushering the rest of the Sky People into the forest and talking appreciatively with the Grounders that are assisting them.

Clarke turns back to Lexa. "I will."

Lexa nods and raises her voice so she can be heard clearly by those around them. "We owe your people a great debt," she tells Clarke. "Without your help, we would have never freed this forest from the Mountain. Finally, we no longer live under its shadow. This war has cost us much, but without your help, we would have lost so much more. My people are strong, but with your people, I hope they can become stronger still." She inclines her head slightly towards Clarke. "You have my thanks."

Clarke returns the gesture and raises her voice to the same level. "We had people in the Mountain too," she answers. "Without you, we never would have gotten them back. We may have a poor history, but we achieved something great here. We won a war that had lasted too long. Now I hope we can create an alliance that will last longer."

Clarke takes a small step forward and holds out her arm. Lexa doesn't hesitate to do the same. She grips Clarke's arm in her own, much as Clarke and Anya had done after they'd escaped the Mountain. Clarke has come to recognize it as a sign of goodbye – one which signifies the intention to see one another again, in this life or the next.

A very small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Lexa's lips, just enough that only Clarke can see it. Her next words are no longer loud and clear, but quiet, and though it may be heard by others, Clarke knows it is meant for her and her alone.

"May we meet again, Clarke of the Sky People."

Clarke doesn't answer, simply nods slightly. She releases Lexa's arm, the word  _"together"_  echoing in her head even as she steps away. She gives Lexa one last, long look, feeling the heaviness of their burdens settle onto their shoulders even as the space between them remains quiet. Clarke feels an aching sadness bloom in her chest. She turns away before it can grow. She moves to return to her people, away from Lexa.

She doesn't look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skrish - "Shit."
> 
> Mochof - "Thank you."
> 
> Heda - "Commander"


End file.
